Beauty Is Scarred Deep
by SupeSympathizer
Summary: Starts up at the end of S4. Alcide kills Marcus, abjures Debbie, and assumes the role of Packmaster. Sam brings him a stray and his whole world is flipped. Delve into their world. A two-natured story.  Alcide/OC, Sam/Luna
1. It Ends Well

**Rating****: This story is Rated M for Mature audiences. THIS MEANS 18+ ONLY. This story was given the rating for the following content: language, adult themes, violence, and sexual content (later on). If you are against any of the aforementioned content, please STOP READING NOW.**

**Disclaimer****: All recognizable characters are the property of Charlaine Harris, author of the Sookie Stackhouse novels. Storylines will resemble TrueBlood's universe, the property of Alan Ball and HBO. I do not make ****any**** money (not a single penny) from posting this story.**

**Beta****: I have no 'official' beta, but the fabulously skilled rdt1114 red-inked this chapter. Thanks hun!  
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**A/N****: The story starts with some of the season 4's finale. The story's main focus will be on Alcide Herveaux and all things two-natured. I plan to incorporate all main characters, and maybe a few of my own. I AM writing off the top of my head BUT feel free to send me suggestions. **

**Don't forget to leave a review!**

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><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By **

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter One: It Ends Well**

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><p>In the bat of an eyelash, Alcide took him down.<p>

Marcus, the local Packmaster, had just fired a gun at Sam. A few more shots rang out, as Alcide struggled to get the gun away. He quickly gained the advantage and had Marcus pinned. The only significant thought in his head was -he would not let this piece of shit, this Packmaster, hurt anyone else.

Alcide's wolf took over- for a split second.

"No!" Debbie screamed over the sickening crunch of bones.

Alcide had just crushed Marcus' throat with his bare hands. He was horrified. He thought he had his wolf under control. There was no way to fix the damage and no time to get help, so Alcide froze in panic, scared out of his mind. Two gurgles later, Marcus stopped breathing and his lupine eyes lost their glow.

The Packmaster was dead.

Alcide felt a shift deep inside as his inner wolf celebrated. His wolf was emitting pride from this kill, but the man was remorseful. Alcide never wanted to play a part in the cycle of life and death, never wanted take a life or create one.

"Oh, God. What did you do?" Debbie whispered. Tears flowed down her face freely, as she took in the sight of her dreams dying before her. Marcus promised her babies and position since he was the Packmaster, but... But she couldn't have any of that now.

The terror Alcide felt, and the sorrow of taking a life was quickly replaced by fury as he smelled her tears. Just a moment ago, his woman was whimpering and screaming as Sam and Marcus fought, trying to get around Alcide to defend Marcus from an overdue ass whooping he so rightfully deserved.

And what did she mean by _'what did you do?_'

She was the one in nothing but a tank and panties, reeking of sex, and crying over a 'were' that she just fucked in his bed, in his room, in his house. His wolf was pissed. His den had been defiled. Alcide rounded towards Debbie, his body tense and ready to spring.

Sam watched on in silence, hoping to blend into the background. He was in shock at the turn of events, but he held no sympathy for the whore who did fifty strokes of dirty with Alcide, then shacked up with Tommy's murderer. Whatever Alcide doled out would be justifiable under pack code and Sam had no intention of interfering in pack business.

Shifters know better than to stick their noses where they didn't belong. Well, this particular one knew better. Besides, Alcide accidentally killed another _'were'_ in human form… no way was Sam gonna be on the receiving end of anything Alcide.

"You!" Alcide growled out, taking a step towards the cheating bitch. He wanted to strangle Debbie and his wolf was ready to rip her apart.

Debbie immediately put her hands up, whimpering and lowering her eyes in a sign of submission. She wasn't driven by respect. No. She was driven by fear and was stalling. She needed to think.

With Marcus' demise, Alcide was now the acting Packmaster and Debbie desperately wanted a huge part of that. Not even considering her previous actions as a deterrent, her only thought was how she could somehow save their relationship. Then she would become the alpha female. As such, Alcide would be expected to have a child with her. Her dreams were salvageable.

"It's okay. It's okay. We can fix this…" Debbie pleaded calmly. She was betting on Alcide's good nature to come through like it always had. Her drastic change from devastation and terror to a placating demeanor had Alcide stopping in his tracks and her breathing in a sigh of relief… Alcide was on to her thinly veiled, line of deceit. He knew what he had to do. There was only one way to finally rid himself of Debbie and her poisonous nature. He was dumping her, and kicking the conniving bitch out of the pack and out of his home.

"Debbie Pelt…" Alcide growled out.

"Uh-huh…" Debbie quietly responded in her well-practiced, demure voice, though her excitement broke through just a bit. She just knew Alcide was going to pronounce her as his mate in front of the shifter, Sam Merlotte. Once that was done, she would finally be in a position of power and respect.

"I abjure you." His voice shook, but he meant it. He was done. She had betrayed him for the _very_ last time.

"No." Debbie was shocked and found it hard to breathe. _He wouldn't, not over this_. He'd forgiven her so often and for worse. "Please don't…" She begged, but Alcide was undeterred.

"I see you no longer. I'll hunt with you, no longer…" he took a steadying breath to finish the last line, and stared into her eyes.

"Alcide…" she cried, but he continued, speaking over her.

"I share flesh with you, no longer."

"Baby…" but she was too late. He was already walking out and slamming the door behind him, signaling the finality of his words.

Sam strolled over to Marcus' body and plucked the gun from his cold dead hand. He didn't bother looking in Debbie's direction, but he heard her slump to the floor as he also exited the room.

Alcide was in the kitchen downing a beer. He eyed the house phone, hanging on the wall- mocking him- daring him to make the call. With a steady breath all reservations left his body, and he found himself dialing Marcus' garage to let the pack know what transpired.

Thirty minutes later, the entire pack was on his lawn- all forty-five wolves. Most were growling and snarling; and it echoed through the house, causing Luna to hold on to little Emma a bit tighter.

"Ya sure you wanna go out there by yourself? I mean, they look pissed." Sam said after a brief peek through the mini-blinds. He backed away from the windows when the weres noticed his presence. He wasn't a pussy, but he knew an ass whoopin' when it's coming. Either way, Alcide was tried and true so he wasn't going to back out now. Not when Alcide needed him most.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Alcide took the opportunity to peep out the windows. His responding growl did little to soothe the females in the house. Luna had a healthy respect for Alcide; for ridding her of Marcus, but Emma was terrified.

"Stay in here." Alcide announced. "If it gets ugly, get your family out."

"No." The single word made Alcide turn around to face a very pissed off looking Sam. "First of all, I ain't pack. You don't get to order me around. Second, you just saved my ass upstairs. I now owe you a debt."

Sam then turned to Luna, who was shaking her head with fat tears raining down. "Cher, don't cry. You take Em and get on out of here, as fast as you can. I gotta stay, but if anything happens to me, you'll be taken care of- you and Emma."

"What? No! What do you mean, Sam?" Luna frantically cried, begging to understand. Did he expect to die? He did. If the pack decides to attack, he knew her and Emma had the grimmest odds for survival, but Sam would make sure they got away.

"I give you everything I have, my possessions and my life. I'd die for you and Em. You're my world."

"And I give you all that I have, my possessions and my life. I love you, Sam Merlotte." Luna wanted to rejoice in finally exchanging the shifter equivalent to marriage vows, but she was shipping him off to die to save Emma from the volatile pack. She had the worst possible luck. She had assholes her whole life and the minute she got a good one, she was losing him.

Before any of them knew what was happening, Debbie bolted out the door straight to the pack. "He killed him! He killed Marcus!" she wailed.

Debbie knew there was a huge possibility that Alcide would be rejected and mauled by the pack. She thought Alcide was too nice; not firm enough to be respected or followed. If Alcide showed any weakness, they would tear him apart right here on his lawn. She expected it and wanted it, as retribution for killing the man willing to give her everything she felt she deserved and then rejecting her on top of that.

The pack grew silent.

Not because they mourned the fallen pack leader, but because Alcide calmly walked out to join them all on the lawn. Alcide growled and they made way, slowing backing away to allow him to pass. Many kept their eyes down and others exposed their necks, already submitting to the new Packmaster.

"Debbie Pelt has been abjured from this pack." Alcide announced. "Get this bitch and all her shit off my property." Two females grabbed Debbie, as several of the pack filed inside to sniff out and collect her belongings. He addressed the ones who remained. "Pack meeting tomorrow at seven for those who want to stay. If you don't show, I'll consider you out with no consequences."

"What the fuck? You think you can just stroll into the pack and take over?" one of the younger wolves yelled. There were several younger wolves grouped together with the outspoken one, twitching like V addicts and all itching for a fight. Alcide rounded his body towards the youngsters, ready to lay down the law, but someone else beat him to it... Sam.

In mid-air, he shifted into a large golden lion, all teeth and muscle. With a roar, the he pounced on all seven, knocking them down like bowling pins. When the youngsters stilled on the ground in terror, Sam roared in fury.

"Sam?" Alcide inched forward, "Mind tellin' me what all this is about?" The lion stilled and switched back to his naked human form.

"They smell like my trailer…" Sam whispered with the oddest faraway look in his eyes, then his features hardened and his body tensed again, "and they smell like Luna's house!"

Alcide heard Luna's gasp then her low growl inside the house. When he heard her padded footsteps, he began to laugh, chuckling away like a crazy person. The remaining pack and Sam- all stared at Alcide with opened mouths and incredulous looks on their faces. Alcide approached the seven youngsters, still prone and unmoving.

"You little shits still don't see your mistake, do you?" He shook his head. "You saw the lion, right?" he was being facetious and didn't wait for a response. "Marcus murdered his brother, so Sam here is owed for a Blood Offense, which puts him above all of you at the moment…" Alcide circled slowly, staring each one down until they looked away. "Hasn't anyone ever told you about mated pairs? Shifters tend to mimic their mate's best animal to ensure survival of their bloodline… and I know you can smell their scared cub in my house. Yet, you showed up here, reekin' of their dens? Big fuckin' mistake." Alcide paused to snicker. "Mated females don't take kindly to invasion of their dens." Alcide took two steps backwards. "Luna? You got something to say to these ingrates?" The young men looked terrified, their eyes widening in fear at what their Packmaster was allowing.

Luna chose that moment to approach. Her giant golden paw came down with a vicious swipe, clawing all the youngsters in a single swoop. The young men screamed at feeling their flesh being torn. Luna switched, morphing into her human form- all legs and black flowing hair. "Like your Packmaster said, big fucking mistake! Next time, you won't be so lucky."

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><p><strong>AN: Love it? Hate it? Let me know!**


	2. Aftermath

**A/N:The response to the first chapter was phenomenal, with all the hits, favorites, author and story alerts... wow, just wow. I'm POSITIVE you're itching for more so without further ado, on with the show!**

**Beta: Again, the ultra-fabulous rdt1114 scoured this chapter and tweaked it to perfection. Thanks hun! **

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><p><strong><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>**

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Two: Aftermath**

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><p>Within two hours of the pack clearing out Debbie's things, disposing Marcus' body in the swamp, and officially calling it a night; Sam was tapping at Alcide's back door, sans Luna and Emma. Alcide answered the door in pajama pants minus a shirt, his normal attire for bed. It didn't take long for Alcide to realize Sam was butt ass naked again as he stepped into his house.<p>

"We need to talk," Sam said.

Alcide rolled his eyes and walked into the adjoining laundry room to retrieve some sweats for Sam. Nudity is fact of life with shifters and weres, but Alcide didn't want another glimpse of Sam's dangling junk if it wasn't absolutely necessary. He promptly threw the grey material in Sam's direction and crossed his thick arms.

"Well?"

"Umm, a wolf showed up trying to take a chunk outta me." Sam said, slipping into the sweats. "But, she was put down, right in front of Merlotte's."

"Put down?" If one of his own attacked shifters who were clearly friends of the pack, he'd have to dole out some serious punishment. Punishment among weres was nasty business, something Alcide wasn't prepared to think about at the moment.

"Yeah. Put down... as in dead. The first wolf," Sam began, but Alcide cut him off.

"There was more than one?" Sam nodded and Alcide was pissed. "Okay, you're gonna have to back the fuck up and rewind a little."

"The first wolf smelled of Marcus. I'm guessing she was another chick on the side and wanted blood after catching wind of what happened. The second, well, I don't know who the hell she is, but she ripped the first one's throat out. Then she asked to be brought to the Packmaster, for punishment."

"What the fuck?"

"Yeah, that's what I've been saying since she dumped the body in with the gators." Sam mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, from what I gather, she's a lone wolf, not part of any pack. She stumbled across the scent of the first wolf and followed it out of curiosity. If she hadn't... Shit, what I'm saying is, we all owe someone tonight and I wouldn't feel right if there were repercussions. She did the right thing."

Alcide nodded. "Alright. So, where is she?"

Sam shook his head. "I need your word first, Alcide. No repercussions and I'll consider us square."

_We'll never be square, Sam_- Alcide thought. He owed Sam, big time. Who else would have had his back against a whole pack of wolves? The respect ran deep and nothing would ever change what they were now- friends. "You have my word."

"Umm, you got a large shirt I can give her? She followed me here and she's kind of shy." Sam explained, but Alcide heard the nervousness in Sam's voice, something that made Alcide uncomfortable.

"Shy? I ain't never heard of a 'were' being shy. Dammit Sam, what's really going on? And why ain't Luna here instead?"

"Luna wanted to scent the trailer and she's being a bit neurotic about it." It was the truth. Shifters are overwhelmed with the need to over-scent belongings upon becoming a pair, but there was another reason, one Sam didn't quite understand himself.

When Luna offered to run the she-wolf over to Alcide's, Sam's instincts kicked in and demanded her safety at all costs. There was no way Sam would allow Luna to escort the she-wolf anywhere, because the thought of the two females being alone made him nervous, as did the she-wolf.

Alcide raised his eyebrow at Sam, knowing he was purposely dodging the most important question. "And?" Alcide prompted.

"As far as the wolf is concerned... I don't know her business, but if I did, it ain't my place to tell it." Sam whispered. "Trust me, you'll want to meet her and ask."

Alcide gave him a dirty look. "Ya know what? I'm tired and if you're not gonna answer my questions about a strange secretive she-wolf..." Alcide was already motioning towards the door, letting Sam know it was time for his ass to go home.

"Just give me a shirt and I'll bring her in." Sam insisted. His puppy dog eyes begged for understanding and Alcide's agitation waivered.

Alcide ran his fingers through his hair and scrubbed at his face. "Fine." He retrieved a T-shirt and threw it in Sam's direction, but a large black wolf strolled right in before Sam reached the door.

"Ok, well. I'll leave you two to...get acquainted with one another." Sam left the t-shirt on the countertop and shifted into a bird, effectively leaving the sweats in a pile and leaving Alcide to deal with the she-wolf, all on his own.

_Nice. No preamble. No introductions...fuckin' shifters._ Alcide thought with a huff.

The wolf grabbed the t-shirt and sweats with its teeth, and went into the laundry room. It pawed at the door until it shut to allow for some privacy. Alcide sighed, wishing the night was over with already. He was exhausted and ready for bed.

"You got about two minutes..." Alcide started with a growl, ready to give an ultimatum, but the door opened.

She stood about 5'8 with choppy long brown hair that seemed to hang over most of her face. The parts that he could see weren't strikingly beautiful per se, but her features were still easy on the eyes. A shy grey eye peeked out at him.

_Huh, grey. Don't see that often- _he thought.

The woman was practically swimming in Alcide's clothes, but it didn't stop her from fidgeting to cover more skin. Just as she was adjusting the hair around her neck, he saw something. It sent an arctic cold blast down his spine.

Scars from claw and bite marks, new and old, crisscrossing and overlapping; from both animal and vampire alike.

Alcide took a step forward to get a closer look but she quickly rounded on him and settled into a crouch, growling with her eyes ablaze. _Holy shit!_ Alcide thought, surprised by her hair trigger reflexes. He also realized the mistake a little too late. By stepping forward, he was between her and the exit, and his large body essentially restricted movement in the cramped space of the laundry room... and by the looks of things, that shit _did not_ fly with her.

"Whoa there," he kept his voice low but calm, and raised his hands to hopefully show he wasn't trying to get fresh or harm her. "I didn't mean to box you in. I'm stepping back now, okay?" He took two slow steps back then turned his back on her. Doing so, gave the female an advantage if she planned to attack, but his goal was to show her that _he_ wasn't a threat.

Alcide busied himself with getting some coffee started. She stayed in the laundry room and watched him carefully, trying to get a read on him. He could hear her sniffing, probably trying to decipher the many scents of wolves who were present tonight and of course, the shifters. She didn't relax until the coffee was done and Alcide was sitting at the table with a cup.

"You can help yourself to some, if you want."

She took a forceful step out then seemed to struggled with herself before she retreated back into the room. A few minutes went by with no movement whatsoever, by either were. Alcide heard her sigh and then her slow steps towards the cupboards. He smiled when he heard the coffee being poured.

First day on the job and he's already helping one of his own kind...but what was he helping her with?

"Have any cream?" she asked in a soft raspy voice.

"Liquid in the fridge. Bottom of the door." Alcide answered. "Help yourself to some food, if you're hungry. And you can join me here at the table when you're ready."

She stalled, glaring at the inside of the refrigerator. She knew if she sat down, the questions would start. After a few slow sips, she reluctantly went to the table and sat across from the Packmaster, eyeing him warily.

"Why'd ya kill that wolf?" Alcide kept his eyes on his cup of coffee, slowly turning it round and round.

"Because otherwise, he'd be dead." She answered, though the statement sounded suspiciously like 'duh'.

"Do you know Sam?" Alcide met her eyes and she didn't look away. _Definitely not the submissive type_- he thought.

"No." She furrowed her brows and her eyes shifted all over Alcide's face, like she was wondering where he was going with this line of questioning.

Now that she was sitting across from him, he could see an array of faint scar lines all over her face, under the harsh light of the chandelier. Her arms were littered with scars too, from elbows to wrists; even the top of her hands were scarred. She caught him staring, so she moved her hands into her lap, using the girth of the table to hide the visible parts of her arms completely.

Alcide immediately felt like an asshole for making her self-conscious. _No wonder Sam was nervous-_ he thought.

Scars on wolves usually meant they were seasoned fighters and ones like hers, only spoke of horrors and atrocious acts. Once heard, you can't 'unhear' or forget gruesome tidbits of information. As Alcide looked her over again, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know, or see, any more.

"Then why did you help him?" Alcide had to ask. For a second, surprise flickered over her features and in the next, it was gone. Any possible emotion was erased from her features, until she looked down and her shoulder reached her ear in a shrug.

"He wasn't shifted and was switched, preoccupied with greeting his mate. The bitch was shifted, sneaking around in the bushes, waiting for an opportunity to attack from behind. The opportunity presented itself and she..." Her lips pulled back as a low, dangerous growl erupted from her chest. "Only a coward would pull that shit."

A death by challenge is one thing, but an ambush is murder. As soon as that bitch sprung on the unsuspecting shifter, the intent was obvious and justice was swift. However, it wasn't her call- not within an established territory- and now she sits across the judge, jury, and executioner of said territory, awaiting his verdict.

"Why'd ya ask to be brought to me? If you thought you'd be punished?" Another question he had to ask, if only to weigh whether she was a good person or not.

There was a pregnant pause as she studied him with hard, analytical eyes. "Cowards run," she answered, "and the shifter, Sam, did no wrong. I came as proof." To her, it was simple. If she ran, Sam would have been blamed and she couldn't allow the shifter to be torn apart by a pack when he wasn't at fault.

"I'm Alcide Herveaux, otherwise known as the Packmaster. And you are?" He wanted to keep it simple and light, even though his mind was screaming at him to ask about those scars.

"Jan-Jannalyn Bannister." She winced at saying her own name.

"It's nice to meet you, but it's late. I'll be turning in. You can stay here, for now. I have three guest rooms upstairs or you can help yourself to the couch. I have three conditions though."

Again, Jannalyn's eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed into slits.

"Hey, none of that." Alcide corrected and gave her a firm look. "Just clean up after yourself, no company, and no trouble. Those are the conditions." Alcide stood and Jannalyn mirrored his movements, just in case.

"That's it? No favors? No interrogation?" Jannalyn asked with a tilted head, clearly confused as he walked towards the stairs. The word interrogation stopped him in his tracks and sent another chill down his spine, as questions yelled for attention in the back of his mind. He turned to face her.

"Yeah, that's it." Alcide confirmed.

"I've never been able to stay anywhere without being...asked."

Alcide let out a low growl at the possible double meaning of her words.

"I usually move on before things get..." Jannalyn's eyes clouded over, as her mind sent her flashes of the last city she visited, several wolves jumping her- no- she vigorously shook her head, swallowed the brick in her throat, and focused on Alcide. "Thank you... for not asking."

"Like Sam said, it's your business. If you want me to know, you'll tell me. I'll see you in a few hours." Alcide left her in the kitchen as he finally made his way upstairs. He stopped in front of his bedroom door and went to a guest room instead, unwilling to rehash what he walked in on just four hours ago. He plopped onto the bed and was out like a light.

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><p>Jannalyn wandered through the lower level of Alcide's house, sniffing the air and various pieces of furniture. She tried to isolate scents, but was only able to distinguish twelve were scents total, two shifters -one of course being Sam, and a human child. The other shifter scent distracted her though, because whomever this shifter was- she smelled <em>really<em> good, sweet almost. Jannalyn took a long deep sniff at the couch. Instinctually, she knew the meaning of this scent, floral and sickly sweet -the shifter is pregnant. She thought long and hard about what she was smelling, and if this Packmaster could be trusted around a child and a pregnant shifter female, then he was safe. _A good man_. For the first time in nearly five years, Jannalyn could finally relax.

TAP. TAP. TAP.

Her eyes shot open from a dead sleep and for a second, she forgot where she was. She tried to calm down, but was already on full alert as the knocking continued at the backdoor window. She looked towards the ceiling. Alcide's soft snores could be heard and he wasn't waking up, not anytime soon.

Jannalyn went to the door and peered out thru the tiny slits in the blinds. A female with strawberry blonde hair and smeared mascara was standing on the other side of the door, looking feral and strung out.

"Open up, Alcide! I know you got a woman in there! I can fuckin' smell her, you piece of shit!" Debbie yelled.

Jannalyn opened the door. Debbie pushed it open the rest of the way and got right in her face.

"I don't know who the fu-" and before she could finish her rant, Jannalyn tackled Debbie into the yard and was on top of her with a firm grip around her throat.

"Watch it, bitch, or I'll break you in five seconds flat." Jannalyn whispered low and deadly into Debbie's ear. In such proximity, Jannalyn smelled the mix of vampire blood and fear rolling off of the hostile female.

"But he's mine! You can't have him! I won't let you steal him or fuck him!" Debbie wailed in a V-induced slur, ignoring the danger pinning her body to the ground.

Jannalyn's response was a tighter, calculated squeeze over the female's voice box, until she was silent.

"Take a good look at me, you stupid cunt!" Jannalyn growled out. She pinned Debbie with a knee to the chest and quickly removed her shirt to show the scars lining her neck that flowed down her breasts, and covered every inch of skin. When Debbie scanned Jannalyn's exposed flesh, her eyes nearly popped out of her head. Jannalyn smirked, knowing she got the desired effect. "I don't fuck, I fight and I win. If I smell you again, I'll tear you apart. We clear?"

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><p>Sookie made a choice as she fingered the trigger. She decided there was no way in hell she, Sookie Stackhouse, would let this same bitch come after her a third time. As her Gran used to say; <em>fool me once, shame on you<em>... and Sookie wasn't going to be fooled again. She wanted Debbie to pay for taking her best friend away, for prematurely ending a friendship she envisioned lasting well into their eighties.

_Fuck it_- she thought, and she pulled. The recoil knocked her back a little and resonating boom from the shotgun made her ears ring. The scream Sookie let out was in shock at seeing Debbie's head exploding, not due to the terror associated with ending a life.

Tara.

Sookie clambered on the floor next to her best friend, who was lying limp and lifeless. She screamed and angrily cried at the loss. As she rocked Tara, Sookie didn't care about half of Tara's head that was gone, no- those thoughts were buried deep below the overwhelming feelings of grief and despair. Sookie's mind went back to discovering Gran's body in the kitchen floor. There was so much blood, just like this...

"Sook?" Lafayette hollered from the stairs, finally waking from a sleeping pill induced nap. "What the _fuck_ is goin' on down here?" he asked, sleepily wiping at his eyes. "I KNEW one of yo' vamps would wake my mufuckin' ass up..."

Sookie didn't bother to look up as she heard Lafayette's approaching footsteps. She couldn't look at him as she heard his gasp. She couldn't look at him when she heard him crying 'no' over and over again. As a hysterical Lafayette sagged down next to Tara, Sookie placed her deceased friend in his lap.

Automatically, she dialed Bill. Who else could help her with this supernatural mess? After several rings, the call went to voicemail. She stared at the phone in disbelief, blinking tears blurring her vision. She dialed Eric next- it went straight to voicemail.

After several more attempts, she knew the vampires wouldn't come. After dumping both vamps and asking to be left alone earlier in the night, both Bill and Eric complied- to the letter. She knew they were only on the other side of the cemetery, because she could feel their anxiety thru the blood bond, but neither came no matter how loud she screamed for help or how many times she called. The betrayal she felt at that moment...like they wiped their hands clean. They were trying to teach her a lesson, making her pay for hurting them, she just _knew_ it.

_'Well, fuck the both of you too."_- She thought, angrily wiping at the tears that wouldn't stop.

Sookie knew what she had to do, but she didn't want to call Alcide. She felt bad that he was tied to such a skank of a woman, not at all that she blew Debbie's brains out, but that she killed someone Alcide blindly loved with his whole being.

How was he going to take this news? And _Oh God she's in a pack_ -Sookie thought. What if they sought retribution? That sobering thought spurred her into action. There was no choice but to call Alcide, and right fucking _now_.

Still wiping at tears, she picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello?" Alcide's gruff voice answered.

"I need you over here. Please, Alcide. I need you." Sookie started, losing her voice in a series of hiccups.

"Sookie? What- what happened?" He demanded. Sookie dragged in a breath, through a dry throat and a snotty nose.

"Debbie." Sookie answered. Click. Alcide ended the call, and then she hung up.

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><p>Alcide found himself pacing in Sookie Stackhouse's kitchen, staring at the bodies of Debbie Pelt and Tara Thornton.<p>

The kitchen was a certifiable nightmare.

Bits of Tara's skull and grey matter were on the cabinets, along with black tendrils of hair intermingling in blood splatter. Where Debbie lay it was the same, only the intact crown of Debbie's head was now six feet away in the laundry room floor; a crescent shape of bright scarlet leaning against the white washing machine.

At the moment, Sookie and Lafayette were in the living room, clutching at one another and sobbing hysterically.

Alcide knelt down and brushed strawberry blonde hair from what was left of Debbie's swollen and disfigured face, confirming the body by scent. As he stared at her crown-less head, he felt nothing but anger at Debbie's current state, caused by her own stupidity and lack of remorse. It became clear to Alcide that Debbie blamed Sookie for being exiled. Instead of admitting and accepting fault for her own actions, she lost her shit, got high, and came over with the intention to kill. Debbie being Debbie went in half-cocked. She didn't consider Tara being around to take the first shot, and she certainly didn't believe Sookie had the ability to get the upper hand. And now Alcide was witnessing the aftermath of another one of her messes.

"Call the Sherriff, Sook. There isn't much I can do here."

"But what about her pack? Won't they come after me?" Sookie asked which only pissed off Alcide's wolf. The wolf wasn't concerned that Sookie only called because her fangers were MIA. The wolf wasn't concerned Sookie only called in a clear effort to cover her own ass among supes. The wolf was more concerned with Sookie's wording. _Her pack?_ As in Debbie's? Fuck that. _My pack,_ the wolf corrected.

"Debbie was abjured." Alcide wasn't going to explain further, until Sookie scrunched her eyebrows together with a confused look on her face. "She was kicked out of the pack. None of the pack will come after you." With that, Alcide left, and didn't look back.

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><p><strong>AN: Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Until next time.**


	3. The Morning After

**A/N: Hello, everyone! ****Again, the response to my second chapter was phenomenal, with all the hits and story alerts. To those who left a review, you ROCK! Honestly, your response to this story is what made me bang out this chapter, so thanks a million for lighting the fire under my ass. **

****Beta: Again, kudos to rdt1114, my unofficial beta/editor-at-large. **Ok, enough of my yammering. On with the show!**

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><p><strong><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>**

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Three: The Morning After**

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><p>Alcide knew there was little he could do about the situation at the Stackhouse property. Tara Thornton's murder had to be reported and the local sherriff, Andy Bellefleur, would quickly deduce Sookie acted in self-defense. Debbie Pelt would be written down in the report as the perpetrator of a breaking and entering, and the case would be closed. Or at least, that's what he hoped would happen.<p>

When Alcide was tempted to stay, he told himself that he was responsible for a pack now and any involvement in others' problems had to be weighed like the existence of the pack relied on it. The pack was not implicated in any way, therefore, there was no need for any involvement whatsoever on Alcide's part. Confident that he was making the right decision, he left and didn't look back.

Debbie _was_ his problem, then became Sookie's...and now Debbie is officially the Sherriff's and the Coroner's problem. _Good riddance_ -he thought bitterly.

To say he was still seething about Debbie fucking around with Marcus under his roof...well, that would be the understatement of the year, maybe the decade. If there was a way to burn that room, without burning down the rest of his house...maybe he could just burn the bed and change the room into a personal gym... As he pondered the destruction and reconstruction of _that _room, daylight began to break.

Sleep deprivation added fuel to Alcide's agitation.

Upon assuming the role of Packmaster, he's been nothing but busy and it hadn't even been twenty-four hours. He'd just finished up the mess with Marcus and informing the pack and before he was able to close his eyes, Sam had came over with Jannalyn in tow. Not even three hours later, Sookie woke him with a phone call.

Then, as Alcide prepared to save Sookie's day; he found Jannalyn waiting for him at the kitchen table, in the exact spot she'd taken up earlier in the night. While Jannalyn chewed her bottom lip nervously, she informed him of the assertion of dominance that ensued due to Debbie's _high as fuck_ appearance at the backdoor. She was prepared to leave, on account of overstepping bounds and possibly angering Alcide, but he wasn't having it. After reassuring her for ten minutes that she'd done the right thing in chasing Debbie off, Jannalyn reluctantly stayed, looking more confused than ever.

Jannalyn's reluctant nature really bothered Alcide. The confusion on her face every time he showed a lick of kindness made him want to scoop her up like a child and shield her from harm- the emotional kind. But he knew doing so would deeply offend her; he could just tell that she wasn't one to be coddled and he had to remind himself that she _could _take care of herself. The evidence _was_ all over her skin.

Jannalyn's words from earlier in the night rang through his head. _"That's it? No favors? No interrogation?"_ Alcide couldn't imagine what kind of 'favors' she was asked for, nor could he imagine how other Packmasters interrogated lone wolves...but the possibilities he _could_ imagine, only pissed him off.

At one point, he gripped the steering wheel until it groaned, as his mind orchestrated very graphic scenarios of wolves circling her...abusing her. He had to pull over to keep his wolf from busting out in the moving blue pick up, because the wolf wanted to rip and tear at something, just as badly as the man.

It was normal to have two warring halves- for the man and wolf to disagree in random situations...but to have both sides in agreement to dole out vengeance, only ensured a volatile and dangerous environment- one that guaranteed the wolf would be out.

It had been a long, exhausting, and emotionally charged night and Alcide was fully prepared to call off from work. Luckily, he owned his own business, and he could afford to take a day off.

_Well, at least it gives me time to prepare for the pack meeting at seven tonight_- he thought. Alcide eyed his watch and it was a little after six a.m. "Fuck," he grumbled, as he speed dialed a number. The framers would be at the construction site by sunrise, so he called the foreman to make sure he brought a copy of the blueprints in Alcide's absence.

On the long drive home, the friend in Alcide wanted to turn around and help Sookie, but he reigned that mushy protective bastard in and decided to let her clean up her own fucking mess for once.

And now that he was really thinking about it, there was no reward in helping Sookie Stackhouse - other than Sookie's one-sided _friendship, _in which she would use Alcide as personal protection, a mess cleaner, problem solver, and emotional crutch until one of her vamps showed interest again. Sure as shit, she'd be back in one or the other's arms, swooning and simpering under their cold skin and fangs. He huffed at the thought.

He was tired of playing hero to damsels in distress...and he was beginning to think he was the one with the problem. When had he developed "savior syndrome"? When had he become so...pathetic?

Always pining for women who didn't return the sentiment. Always accepting less than what he deserved. Always forgiving after being treated like dirt. The 'go to' dependable good guy who always seemed to finish last and was forever in the _friend_ category.

Alcide could have gone on and on, in this degrading line of thought, but after a mental slap and some heavy thinking about his own character, he decided he wasn't going to be the brooding jaded type most men become after having their hearts ripped out and stomped on. No. He would NOT become one of those men.

Besides, Alcide promised his Mama that he'd be a good man, and just because being a good man wasn't paying off, it didn't let him off the hook from that promise. And Lord forbid, if his Mama ever heard a flimsy rumor about any unjustified mistreatment, she'd promptly slap his eyeballs to the back of his skull- even though she would need a step ladder to accomplish the task. The mental picture of his Mama bringing hell brought a smile to his face and soothed his inner criticism.

Debbie. Sookie. Sookie. Debbie. He said their names over and over in his head and realized something- something he should have seen a long time ago.

Sookie Stackhouse was another Debbie Pelt- a natural danger magnet with a penchant for having her nose where it didn't belong, a mighty mouth and attitude with nothing of her own to back it up, and a child in a woman's body who is too stupid to think things through. Not to mention, the fact she relied on the good nature of others to help her out whenever she got in over her head. And the tears! Both always cried as a last resort to play on the sympathy of others...

_Fuck that. I'm done with her, too. _And he meant it. He'd already stuck his neck out a couple of times now, and what has she done for him? Granted, Alcide hadn't needed Sookie's help, but if he had, she was always swimming in problems and was barely keeping afloat as it was...Yeah. It was time to cut her off. He couldn't afford to have his attention divided, not anymore.

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><p>It was seven in the morning by the time Alcide made it back to his house in the quiet suburbs of Shreveport. The sun rose about a half hour ago and as daylight filled the inside of the truck's cab, the more his body screamed for sleep.<p>

As Alcide dragged himself to the back porch, he heard the distinct sound of a mop, sloshing across the kitchen floor.

His guest was still awake...and cleaning?

Raised to be a considerate man, Alcide untied his boots to take them off- lest he dirty up a freshly mopped floor. That shit was just not copacetic with a woman in the house, even if he was currently a bachelor and she was just a guest. For good measure, he clapped his boots together to loosen the mud in the treads and to give Jannalyn plenty of warning that he had returned.

Jiggling the lock then turning the knob, Alcide let the door swing open before attempting to step over the threshold, to see if the floor was dry enough to walk on.

Stepping on even the partially damp kitchen floor would be an embarrassing mistake; the tiles are incredibly slick. He would know- he's busted his ass on it four times since moving in. After the long night he's had- well, he wasn't leaving anything up to chance.

The scent of fried peppered bacon and buttery biscuits wafted to his nose, which had his stomach growling something fierce. The unmistakable aroma of a fresh pot of coffee was calling to him, and he couldn't wait to be seated at the table. Eat, get full, sleep a few hours- that was his immediate agenda.

But what he saw rooted him to the spot.

Jannalyn's steel gray irises were glowing, like she was fighting a shift, while she roboticly moved the mop, left to right, left to right. A huge wet coffee stain on the front of the white t-shirt she wore, only revealed the thick ragged scars beneath as the damp material clung to her skin. There was too much coffee on the shirt to just be a single cup; it looked like the whole pot was spilled. And blood. He smelled blood but he couldn't see any injuries right away.

In a very animalistic way, her head tilted to the side as their eyes connected and the mop stopped moving. Her eyes slowly drifted to the floor, as she exposed the side of her neck in submission. His inner wolf was thrilled at the show of respect, but the man was worried out of his mind. Something was wrong. The woman he met last night was not the submissive type, shifted or switched.

"Jannalyn?" he called out. There was no response. Not a blink, not a whimper, nor a growl. Then her eyes rolled back, her whole body swayed, and she crumpled to the floor.

Carefully making his way to Jannalyn's collapsed form, he slipped his hand under her head and cradled it from the floor. Doing so only led to a horrifying discovery; the back of her head was warm and wet, and his fingers grazed a gaping cut.

The pieces were falling into place as to what happened here- Jannalyn had slipped on this slick ass floor and busted her head open during the fall. After a brief scan of her extremities, he found a pressure cut on her right elbow, also bleeding profusely, and he was positive her breasts, stomach, and hips were severely burned from the spilled pot of coffee.

And she still tried to clean up the mess.

"Shit!" Oh God, his heart sank as he thought of the conditions he had given her -_"Just clean up after yourself, no company, and no trouble." _With guilt clawing at his heart, Alcide picked her up and bought her upstairs to one of the unused guest rooms.

After depositing Jannalyn on the bed, he pondered his options. There was no way he could take her to the hospital; too many questions would be asked about her scars, so he called the only supe doctor he knew- Dr. Ludwig.

"Alcide Herveaux here, I'm calling because-"

"What is it, wolf?" Dr. Ludwig rudely screeched into the phone.

"An emergency- at my house," he answered.

"I gathered that much! Details!" Dr. Ludwig demanded.

"Female wolf, about twenty five, maybe thirty, with a head injury and burns. She passed out." Alcide spouted off and the response on the other end of the line was a huff of impatience.

"Give me two minutes." Click.

Alcide gawked at his cellphone, not believing how incredibly rude that sinister elfin woman was, for no reason! Alcide had thought it was hilarious when he witnessed the small woman cussing out the cockiest vamp he ever had the displeasure of meeting, the one and only Eric Northman, but to get the same treatment, when he hasn't done a damn thing wrong, rendered the wolf speechless. He finally clapped the cellphone closed and realized something- he hadn't given the doctor an address. Alcide was about to call her again when he heard a loud pop and suddenly, Dr. Ludwig was at the foot of the bed with a black tote.

Completely shocked, Alcide jumped up with a growl.

Dr. Ludwig, standing at four feet tall and dressed in minature scrubs, was unimpressed with Alcide's display. She placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. "Move wolf, or I'm going back home."

Move? It was then that Alcide realized he was on the bed, hovering over Jannalyn and blocking the doctor's view. Alcide reluctantly acquiesced. He was stunned at how fast he moved without thinking and his inner wolf was on high alert, simply because of the way the doctor's eyes widened when she saw the patient.

"Help me roll Jan over." The doctor's voice was no longer callous and took on a softer, sadder tone. Alcide did as the doctor asked, not missing how the doctor seemed to already know Jannalyn and had some sort of attachment.

"Her name is Jannalyn." Alcide corrected, just to see where his hunch would lead.

"She prefers Jan. Poor kid can't get a break." Dr. Ludwig swallowed hard and cleared her throat."What are her injuries and how were they sustained?" Dr. Ludwig asked clinically, converting back into the bored doctor with a horrible bedside manner.

As she set out supplies from her bag, the doctor's shaking hands didn't go unnoticed by Alcide. He knew there were only three emotions that would cause a person's hands to shake; nervousness, fright, and anger. He watched the small woman carefully as he chose his next words.

"I'm guessing she slipped in the kitchen and cracked her head on the tile. Her front looks burned from spilling coffee during the fall." The doctor's hands stilled and it left Alcide confused. Clearly, she wasn't nervous or frightened, so that only left anger as the reason for the shakes.

"An accident?" The doctor asked to no one in particular. Surprise was evident in her voice, and by God, did the evil elfin woman smile, showing all of her triangular shaped teeth.

Alcide couldn't decide what was scarier, the normal disgruntled version of Dr. Ludwig, or the smiling version. All he knew, was that both versions made him cringe. The tiny doctor filled a syringe with green liquid and plunged it straight into Jannalyn's jugular.

"What was that?" Alcide nodded towards the syringe.

"A sedative to keep her down. This will keep her asleep for at least two days, long enough for well deserved rest."

Dr. Ludwig knew that if Jan startled awake, whomever was closest would be on the receiving end of the she-wolf's survival instinct. Ludwig absentmindedly rubbed at the center of her chest, on the sternum, where Jan bit Ludwig when she was only fourteen. As her fingers grazed the rigid scar left by the she-wolf, the little doctor sighed.

_Ludwig was summoned by vamps on the Mexican border, offering to pay quadruple the normal amount for house calls if she signed a confidentiality agreement. Blinded by the money, Ludwig signed and was brought to a patient in an adjoining room. _

_The girl was naked, unconscious, and was covered in blood; and the majority of it was not her own. _

"_I believe you broke your newest addition." Ludwig heard a vampire hiss to another in the background as she worked on the girl's cuts. _

"_Does not matter." Another spoke in a Spanish accent. "Her father's debt was paid two fights ago. The profit she will bring..." _

_Ludwig's eyes left the table for just a second, and the girl startled awake. Being the closest, Ludwig was the first to be bitten as chaos ensued. The wild feral girl attacked anything that moved and had to be tackled and restrained by vampire guards while the doctor sedated her. _

Ironically, all of Ludwig's children bit and scarred her in the same area after birth, and the doctor couldn't control the irrational association and parallels. Such is the way of her kind.

Ludwig parted Jannalyn's hair and retrieved a few items from the over-sized black tote. Within minutes, the area was shaved, cleaned, and staples held the head wound closed.

"She has a concussion. When she wakes, hearing, sight, and sense of smell will be heightened. Irritability is common, until she can adjust." The doctor supplied, as she set out a needle to start on the elbow wound. When the final suture was tied, the doctor flattened both of her tiny hands on Jannalyn's back. "Her temperature is too low for healing. It needs to rise to a minimum of 106 Fahrenheit. She prefers heating pads over body heat."

Alcide nodded agreeably, even though he hated that this doctor was intimate with Jannalyn's medical history and knew her preferences.

With a pair of surgical scissors, Ludwig began to cut the fabric of the stained t-shirt along Jannalyn's spine. "Let's roll her over. See how bad these burns are." Alcide assisted in rolling Jan over, then the doctor pulled the shirt away and inspected the skin.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. This poses a problem," the doctor muttered. The scarred skin was inflamed; burn and blood blisters were rapidly appearing- bright pink, yellow, and angry red in color.

"How bad is it?" The gentleman in Alcide wanted to look away while Jan's breasts were exposed, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. The smell of blood, and the sight of forming blisters on top of the white and pink overlapping scars, had his wolf whining and howling out in agony. It paced back in forth inside and demanded to be let out.

"Scar tissue doesn't develop well over old scar tissue. With the preexisting nerve damage, I'm afraid the burns may have further damaged the nerves in the skin. She may lose all sensation in the affected area... her breasts are burnt the worst."

The stupid fucking tile! He should have demolished that floor months ago, but _Debbie liked it_. The bitch was dead and gone but people were still paying for her choices! Alcide angrily scrubbed at his face and began to pace.

"There's no treatment? No supernatural elixir or 'cure all' salve you can use?"

"Of course, there is," she grounded out,"but Jan has forbidden the use of both options. She abhors the use of V and if I employ the other...well, either option and she'll wake extremely hostile."

"What _is_ the other option?" Alcide pressed, determined to know the alternative to highly addictive vampire blood. _Anything but V-_ he thought. Dr. Ludwig looked at him like he was the stupidest creature on earth.

"Are you deaf, wolf? What part of _extremely hostile_ do you not comprehend? Jan will not consent to any wolf licking her wounds!"

"Excuse me?" Alcide couldn't believe his ears. A wolf who wouldn't consent to the licking of wounds? He was about to ask "why not?" but Ludwig began to rant.

"You pack creatures are incredibly undereducated about your physiology!" Ludwig huffed, exasperated with what she believed was common among all two-natured, zero knowledge about the basics. She glared at Jannalyn, like a mother scolding a child. "The compounds in wolf saliva act as an antiseptic and sealant. The licking stimulates the blood vessels and cuts healing time by more than half, depending on duration." It was a rehearsed speech she relayed to deaf ears, repeatedly over the years and even though Jannalyn was out for the count, she couldn't help repeating herself, yet again. "Despite knowledge of this, you still forbid it! You wouldn't have _half _these scars if you would simply allow it!" The doctor momentarily forgot herself, and the fact that there was a Packmaster in the room. She promptly snapped her mouth closed, knowing she had already said too much.

Alcide had an inkling as to why Jannalyn forbid the second option. With what was mentioned last night, of favors and interrogations every time she came across a pack, he wasn't surprised that Jannalyn didn't trust other wolves.

"You're the doctor. Choose what's best, whatever will fix the nerve damage." Alcide didn't like either option, but he couldn't fathom what it would be like for a woman to lose feeling in her breasts. At this point, he could deal with whatever the doctor chose. He crossed his arms and glared at the doctor. "Well, make a decision."

"And take away her choices? I will not breach the trust she has placed in me."

The stubborn elfin woman wasn't willing to make a choice that went against Jannalyn's wishes, but that didn't mean Ludwig wasn't smart enough to dump the decision making into the Packmaster's lap. Ludwig revealed the choices; the most aggressive and least appealing option first, the natural option second, but she also conveniently removed herself from responsibility knowing how Jan would react to both. She cared little that Alcide's life could be in danger upon carrying out either option, just that Jan would be okay in the end.

Just as Ludwig predicted, Alcide's beast made a decision and was clawing its way out, to let his edict be known.

"Then get out." Alcide bit out, trying to rein in his wolf. Alcide felt the roll of a shift starting; the unmistakable shiver down his spine, the spike of temperature within, the rapid recoiling of his muscles... It was commonly referred to as 'a roll' for a reason- once it starts, it's like rolling down a steep hill, almost impossible to stop.

Dr. Ludwig shrugged, unfazed by the danger in the room.

"It's your head. Just don't say I didn't warn you." Ludwig moved around the bed as she gathered her things, haphazardly throwing various items back into her tote, then she paused and turned. "I'm assuming, you won't be needing this?" The doctor produced a small vile of purplish black vampire blood from her pocket and held it in the air- in clear view of the already agitated wolf.

"Get out!" Alcide bellowed. The sight of vampire blood had him losing the fight; the tingling in his skin had begun and his vision sharpened, a sign his eyes were blazing orange.

"Call me when she wakes." With a satisfied smirk and a loud pop, Dr. Ludwig disappeared.

With no other supernatural around, the wolf calmed...only slightly.

Alcide found himself in an unusual predicament. His eyes were still ablaze and his skin crawled, but he stood on two legs, instead of four. It was then that Alcide realized something strange was going on; physically, he was teetering on the delicate line between beast and man- and mentally, both sides were simultaneously aware. For just a few seconds, neither wolf nor man knew what to make of this new development...but it didn't matter the second his eyes landed on Jannalyn.

The wolf acted first and showed Alcide mental pictures, over and over again.

_Black wolf not moving. White wolf nuzzles black wolf. White wolf licks wounds. White wolf lays next to black wolf. White wolf stands over black wolf. White wolf shows teeth and snarls at pack males. _

_Ok! Ok! I get it!_ - Alcide thought, irritated that the wolf thought the man was oblivious to what needed to be done. The wolf was satisfied that his message had been received and it retreated back into the recesses of Alcide's mind.

"Aww, fuck me." Alcide complained, as he removed his shirt to keep it clean. He crawled onto the bed, but he paused when his weight caused the mattress to dip. The soft bounce of Jannalyn's breasts had him groaning in disgust with himself. He knew if she were awake, the movement would have been excruciating.

With his knees on the bed, he stared at Jannalyn's half naked form. The gentleman in him felt like a pervert for what he was about to do, but the wolf was angry now, and was demanding to know- _what the fuck are you waiting for?_

The wolf wasted no time in taking over, and suddenly, Alcide was staring at white paws. With a vigorous shake of his pelt the jeans Alcide had been wearing were shrugged off. The wolf stood over Jannalyn's body, mindful to not step on her. He sniffed her, nudged her face gently, then threw his head back to howl a long sorrowful song that was heard for miles.

The howl was an emotional release for the wolf. The Alpha had been agonizing over the fact that a wolf had been hurt in the den; a wolf who had already had her share of scars, in a den that should be safe. His.

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><p>Across Shreveport and beyond, the pack heard their Packmaster's howl. Although all were in human form, they heard it and stilled at the exact moment it began, but only a few reacted when it ended. The males resumed their prior business like they hadn't heard it at all, but five females in the pack grew restless.<p>

"Momma, did you hear that?" Megan asked, putting down the dish she had been gripping since she heard the beginning of the lupine song. Her nerves were shot. She felt like she had something to do, but couldn't figure out what it was.

"Get your jacket on." Melinda ordered while gathering her purse and keys.

"But-" Megan wanted to argue that she had school in fifteen minutes, but her mother was putting on ballet flats; easy to slip out of in case a shift was required.

"No buts. When you hear _that, _it's time to go." Melinda grabbed her seventeen year old's elbow and practically dragged her to the car.

Melinda knew Megan wasn't acclimating well to two-natured life. Although Megan should have been able to shift at the onset of puberty, her first shift into a wolf was late by three years.

Melinda snickered as she thought of her daughter's first few meetings with the pack. While shifted, Megan is every bit the pup- playful and unpredictable at best. It took every female in the pack to keep an eye on her, just to make sure she didn't end up smelling like skunk again, or mindlessly running through a field of burrs.

Megan's hijinks has even aggravated a few of the adolescent males, so much so, that they refuse to speak to her in switched form. She picked fights with them by nipping at their ears and tails, then she'd run like the wind, dodging trees at break neck speeds. Those boys had a hard time keeping up and they envied her because of it.

"Ugh, Momma! What are we doing here? Weren't we here last night?" Megan whined as they pulled into Alcide's driveway. She hated pack business. She always seemed to make an ass out of herself while shifted.

"We gotta see what's going on." Melinda responded with a firm look, then let herself out of the Volvo.

Megan sighed and got out, then three more cars pulled up- cars she immediately recognized- her pack aunts. The three others walked over to where Megan and Melinda stood, greeting both with hugs. Megan rolled her eyes.

"Y'all heard that too?" Melinda asked and a round of 'umm hmms' and 'yups' followed. "Alright, let's go in. It's awful quiet now." All the females stared toward the house simultaneously; each listening for movement, each scenting the air. Melinda was the first to move, her nose flaring as she bolted towards the backdoor.

"Momma? What is it?" Megan whisper yelled, trying to keep up.

"Blood. New blood." Melinda stopped everyone at the backdoor by extending her arm. "Lemme check it out first." Megan watched her mother as she carefully scented the door. "That Debbie bitch came back. The scent is just a few hours old." Melinda said with a low growl. All the females stayed back and remained silent as Melinda slowly stepped into the kitchen.

Megan knew if Debbie Pelt was here, all hell would break loose, especially if she spilled blood after being abjured. It took something serious to get kicked out of a pack and if the person returned their life was forfeit, which meant there was a chance Megan would see her pack aunts rip someone apart. The thought made her queasy and the sudden urge to run was quickly extinguished by her mother's glare.

Megan remembered her mother's words on the day of her induction into the pack. _"One of the first things you learn as a wolf- if you join a pack, don't get kicked out. You sure about this?" _

Megan continued to watch as her mother sniffed at various things in the kitchen. She had always heard her mom was the best tracker in the pack- with a sniffer that worked better than a entire pack of bloodhounds. As Megan stared on in wonder, she speculated if she too, would develop the same heightened olfactory sense.

_Not in a million years. _Megan mentally grumbled. _All my wolf wants to do is play. _

"It's not the Packmaster's blood I smell." Melinda relayed quietly, cautiously scanning the environment with her eyes. The females made their way through the house, searching room by room.

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><p>The white wolf meticulously laved at Jannalyn's skin, disregarding the taste of blood and body fluids when a blister popped. Jannalyn whimpered and the wolf stopped to nuzzle her face in an attempt to soothe. When she quieted, he continued with the arduous task of licking her wounds until he heard something. A single ear perked up and slightly rotated towards the sound.<p>

Footsteps. Several footsteps.

* * *

><p>Melinda and the others stood at the closed doorway, hearing the low warning growl of a wolf on the other side.<p>

"Shit. What do we do now?" Abby, who is six months pregnant, decided it was time to inform the pack of the short leave she planned. In her condition it was simply too dangerous to shift until postpartum. She only attended last night's call due to the change in power and now she was wrangled into another pack affair.

"Well, he called for a reason." Melinda shrugged. She gave no warning as she quickly turned the knob and let the door swing open.

There on the bed, was the huge white wolf of their Packmaster, hovering over the scarred body of a female they had never seen before.

Megan gasped at seeing the crisscrossing layers on the female's skin, and instinctively, she angled her body behind her mother's. On an animalistic level, Megan's wolf knew this female was dangerous, more dangerous than her Packmaster. Quite frankly, just _seeing_ the female scared the shit out of her, even if she wasn't moving at the moment.

Several 'fucks' were muttered, causing Alcide's wolf to snarl and bare his teeth. His hackles were raised as he jumped from the bed and the vocalizations became louder. He looked rabid- saliva flinging everywhere as he snarled and snapped his jaws.

"Don't move." Melinda whispered, but the only one who needed to be told was Megan. She was the youngest female in the pack and had the least control. "And whatever you do, don't look him in the eyes." Before Melinda could finish, she heard clothes crumpling to the carpet. With one look over her shoulder, she saw Megan had shifted into her thin framed, sandy colored wolf. Her heart sank in fear when Megan's wolf passed her to enter the room.

The Alpha snarled again and the beige wolf sunk lower to the floor on all fours, but was still inching further into the room. Melinda could do nothing but watch in horror as her daughter approached the agitated Packmaster with her head tilted to side. Megan let out a whine as the white wolf grabbed the scruff of her neck with his teeth. It didn't hurt and never broke skin, but it was his way of telling her to behave and be still. The beige wolf rolled onto her side and exposed her belly, allowing the white wolf to vigorously sniff her entire body.

The Alpha gave the adolescent wolf his back to stare in the direction of the others at the door. He huffed then returned to the bed, nuzzling Jannalyn before he gave her body a long swipe of his tongue. The sandy colored wolf followed suit, clumsily hopping onto the bed. She stepped on Jannalyn and Alcide's wolf growled until she removed her paw from Jannalyn's thigh. Megan's tongue lolled out and with a small curious lick against Jannalyn's skin, the Packmaster's hackles relaxed.

Watching the events unfold, Melinda finally understood what Alcide wanted. "He wants us to shift so we can help."

One by one, each female disrobed, shifted, and entered to approach their growling Packmaster. Each time, the Alpha grabbed the scruff of their necks, making it clear that they were his submissives. One by one, he scented each, then allowed access to the bed where the others were licking Jannalyn's wounds.

Abby was the last to come forward.

She was nervous. She had heard it was difficult and dangerous to shift so far along in a pregnancy so she hesitated, but by the way her Packmaster's wolf was eyeing her, she felt she didn't have a choice and would have to shift- and soon. She rushed to remove her clothing, having a difficult time maneuvering the shirt around her swollen belly to lift it over her head.

As she pulled the material obstructing her view, the white wolf stepped towards Abby, instead of waiting to be approached. She sucked in a breath as he closed the distance, until his huge head was literally inches away. She was trying to shift, but couldn't, not while nervous and and not with him being that close.

Then something remarkable happened, something unheard of. Instead of biting her to cause a shift, his nose went to her crotch. It was a bit rough and intrusive, but Abby didn't have a choice but to allow it. What could she do? She certainly wouldn't swat his nose away.

A short inhale was followed by a huff that shook his pelt from side to side. The white wolf was puzzled at first, hearing two heartbeats within a single body, but the floral, sickly sweet smell of pregnancy hormones got his attention. He couldn't stop himself from burying his nose at the source. His cold, wet, twitching nose traveled to her bare stomach, sniffing carefully around the most swollen parts.

_A pup. _The first pup under a wolf's reign held major significance. Its survival until the first shift was a testament to the Alpha's skills as a leader and protector. He sniffed again and didn't smell a male _were's _scent. Finishing his inspection, the Alpha, wasn't irritated at her inability to shift but felt his wolf deciding that it was his duty to protect this female and her unborn pup_._

Now, there were two females to protect and despite the new workload, the Alpha couldn't have been happier. It gave him a sense of purpose and finally gave him a clear outlet to assert the ingrained protective nature of an alpha wolf. He sniffed Abby again, long and deep this time to memorize her scent. He would be keeping an eye on her from now on.

He mouthed Abby's wrist, careful to not clamp down with his teeth as he pulled her into the room and towards her pack sisters. Abby could only follow his lead, awed that he hadn't attacked. The careful gentleness her Packmaster showed, even as the Alpha in wolf form...almost brought her to tears. She'd never felt so cared for and accepted in her whole life.

Content with the picture of several subordinate and cohesive females on task, Alcide's wolf left the room.

* * *

><p>Alcide switched to human form in the hall, covered in sweat and panting like he'd just ran a marathon. The aftertaste of metallic blood and briny fluid that the wolf had been able to disregard, wasn't as easily ignored by the man. Bile rose up in his throat as his stomach lurched.<p>

Alcide slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from vomiting where he stood. He made a mad dash to the bathroom, where he proceeded to expel the contents of his stomach until the muscles constricted so tightly that he though he'd pass out. When his empty stomach settled, he wiped the sweat from his brow and the tears from his eyes, vowing to never lick another's wounds ever again.

The steady stream of the shower was welcomed with a groan of relief. As the water cooled his skin and washed the sweat from his body, Alcide closed his exhausted eyes and rested against the cool tile.

But Alcide's thoughts wandered to Jannalyn, lying helpless and immobile. He shook his head trying to clear the lingering insecurities for her safety, trying to remember that the females were with her- taking care of her.

Alcide busied himself with a soapy washcloth, determined not to run back into that room like an overprotective lunatic, even though the urge was strong. In a loud splat, he threw the washcloth in frustration. He wondered if all Packmasters went through something similar and found himself declaring that yes, this _had_ to be a normal reaction as leader and protector. He closed his eyes again and tried to relax...then his thoughts took an unexpected turn.

_Jannalyn dancing in the nude under the full moon, unashamed of the scars. _The mental picture changed. _Her chestnut hair trailing behind as he chased her through the forest. _It changed again. _On the forest floor with her side by side, holding hands and laughing. _

_Suddenly, she mounted him, her grey eyes twinkling as she smirked. Her teeth bit down on his earlobe as she ground herself against him. Her body slid back and forth as she rode him. Alcide pulled and pushed at her hips to delve deeper, harder. Lips kissing him, teeth grazing his skin, her hands everywhere as she fucked him senseless._

And just like that, Alcide's entire body stiffened as he came with a strangled moan. Panting harder than ever, he quickly rinsed the evidence down the drain in embarrassment, hoping none of the females heard.

* * *

><p><strong>Until next time!<strong>


	4. The Awakening

**Thank you to those who added a story alert and to those who are still following, I seriously heart you guys and gals.**

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><p><strong><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>**

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Four: The Awakening**

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><p>Alcide woke with a jolt.<p>

The beep, beep, beeping of the commercial truck's reverse alarm was irritating, but tolerable for all two-natured…but to wolves with sensitive hearing like Alcide, it was like the Liberty Bell gonging away. The higher frequencies created by machines had always been problematic in his line of work, until he invested in ear plugs- ear plugs he did not have within reach at the moment.

He slipped out of the room to investigate, but once in the hallway, his body refused to move down the stairs.

Quietly, he backtracked to the last room in the hall, where Jannalyn was recovering. Glancing in, he found she was alone, resting in a peaceful slumber. The females were talking elsewhere in the house, so he decided to check on the sleeping guest, loosely covered with a white sheet.

As Alcide stepped into the room, the smell of _his_ brand of shampoo and bodywash caught his attention. The women had somehow given Jannalyn a bath, a thought that made him smile. He had good women in this pack; good women who did nice things for others without being asked or ordered to do so.

When his eyes landed on her clean face, he was so shocked that he almost stopped breathing. With her features fully relaxed, she truly looked beautiful- regal almost. Her thin eyebrows, the slope of her small nose, slightly parted lips he wanted to taste more than anything…he gave no shits about the scars that seemed to cover her skin like a net. Beneath it all, she was magnificent.

He inhaled long and deep to sniff out any nasty developing infections, but detected nothing out of the ordinary, except – _wow_, did she smell _good_.

A delicate mix of wild flowers kissed by spring rain, and creamy milk, and thick sweet honey, and hot sweaty sex… and he couldn't get enough of it filling his lungs. Debbie never smelled this good, Sookie neither, and _fuuuck_, it permeated the air with every heartbeat and the aroma grew stronger by the minute. A low rumbled _'__m__mm'_ cut loose from deep within and he couldn't control the ridiculous hums coming out as he feasted on her scent.

The heaving of her chest made his eyes drift down and his jaw dropped. The sheet was so thin it was almost sheer and made the outline of Jannalyn's tanned body beneath difficult to ignore. Greedily, his eyes raked over her form at an excruciating pace, trying to take in as much as possible. The curve of her breasts, her toned arms, her thin waist blooming into full hips, the dark tuft of hair at the apex of her thighs, and muscular legs that seemed to go on and on...

By the time his eyes reached her feet, he was salivating; panting for breath…the assault on his nerves had his hands trembling out of control as he reached…

With a jerk, he pulled his hands back and shook his head. He forced his eyes to Jannalyn's face again.

And he stared.

He tried to catch his breath.

_Ugh, b__ut her scent_. With every breath, he swore he felt the atomic particles of her scent, entering his body to mark him from the inside out. The unexpected thought of Jannalyn marking him on his shoulder made his body shudder with renewed lust. "Fuck me." He muttered. It was both a plea and a cry of exasperation. He wanted –no- needed, to fuck her to the brink of insanity, ruin her for all others, and then spoil her with any luxury in the world…

He was not gonna look again.

He was not gonna look.

He was not…

His eyes drifted down to her neck, to her collar bone, then further still, making a hot trail down the length of her body again- to take it all in again before he went insane.

He stood two feet from the bed, fantasizing what it would feel like to run his fingers on the same course. Like being lulled by a siren's song, the aura of warmth and the visible texture of her skin seemed to call out to him. He wanted to memorize her with his lips. With a groan, he imagined sliding skin to skin, chest to chest…if he could feel her beneath him for just one minute. _Just one solid fucking minute._

_Dear __God__ in heaven_, he was aching. He grew uncomfortably hard as he imagined what her face would look like during the throes of passion… dilated pupils, flushed cheeks, her hot breath washing over his neck and shoulders, her eyes rolling back as her lips formed a perfect 'O' when she... He let out a low growl of approval and another string of incoherent curses.

Growling like a motherfucker, the wolf reminded him that there was shit to investigate outside, _right now!_ Something registered in the back of mind. A single word that seemed to reverberate through his entire body and echo around in his head at the loudest possible decibel- _protect_.

Alcide closed his eyes. He needed to get out of this room before he did something he could never take back…but _shit_ he wanted her, needed her in the worst possible way, in every possible position, on every possible surface.

No. He couldn't. Wouldn't. She's not even awake.

_Leave the room. Holy fuck! Leave the room._

Backwards step by backwards step, he forced himself out. And 'no' became an internal chant, every time his inner horny bastard tried to deviate from the task. Once the door was shut, he immediately pressed his sweaty forehead into the wood with a sigh.

"Holy fuck!" he grumbled. Frustrated, he roughly scrubbed at his face, completely exasperated with the lusty feelings that were trying their damnedest to cloud his judgment. At that precise moment, he heard a muffled male voice coming from outside.

* * *

><p>Melinda stared at the mattress as the hauler heaved it into the back of the truck. The women steam cleaned it, but even after two complete scrub downs and a heavy dose of Febreeze, they could still smell Debbie and Marcus all over it. <em>They must have been fucking like bu<em>_nnies to make it smell this bad_-she thought.

Unanimously, the women decided to pitch it before Alcide woke up, instead of giving it a third go. There was no need to keep such awful reminders, especially with wolf senses. It was the equivalent of keeping a video tape of the act and having it play over and over again on every television in the house.

The patch of carpet where Marcus drew his last breath, well, the bastard urinated a little, so it had to go too. Melinda wanted to believe Marcus pissed himself in fear during his last moments, but everyone who _ever_ had the displeasure of knowing the _real_ Marcus Bozeman, also knew he was an obstinate and petulant fucker. Even in death, Marcus managed a last middle finger salute by marking the room. Melinda watched as the hauler lifted the rolled up carpet and it too, joined the mattress and the rest of the garbage.

"Thanks for coming out, on such short notice." Melinda handed the man a hundred dollar bill, payment for the haul-away. It was a hundred bucks she was happy to spend. Their new Packmaster did not need any more stress at the moment, not with the pack meeting a few hours away.

"No problem, Ma'am. Thank you for the business." The hauler tipped the bill of his ball cap and gave Melinda a wide saucy smile.

However, his smile dropped as he caught sight of Alcide's bare-chested and barefooted form standing at the front door about fifty feet away. The hauler quickly looked down to Melinda's hand to see if she was married. The glint of gold metal made him balk. When the man looked back up, Alcide's brown eyes zeroed in on him, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood. The hauler was fit from years of hefting and lifting bulk trash, but to him- Alcide looked like a linebacker- a jealous, pissed off, murderous looking linebacker.

"What's this?" Alcide demanded as his feet hit the grass in purposeful steps, making Melinda visibly cringe. She hoped he wouldn't wake for a while longer. Alcide's eyes moved back and forth from Melinda to the man standing at the edge of the driveway, completely baffled by the urge to beat the snot out of a complete stranger, just for being on the property.

"Ahh, fuck!" It was a whisper yell that sent the hauler into a panic, as Alcide strode closer. "You better get on outta here." Melinda advised quietly, nodding her head towards the truck. The hauler glanced over her shoulder one more time, only to see Alcide's furious eyes trained on him, with balled fists and a tightly clenched jaw. Like the smart man he was, he promptly got into the driver's seat to take off.

"Melinda?" Alcide prompted irritably, as the truck started to pull out. That single inquiry asked a thousand questions, but Melinda knew it was a polite and slightly confused 'what the fuck is going on?'

Alcide had only met Melinda a handful of times, barely knew her, and here she was, disposing of things from _his_ house. And that asshole eyeballin' him in the side mirror...who the _fuck_ was he and what was he doing here?

"Figured you didn't want your house to smell of the past." Melinda squarely answered, when she was positive the truck engine was roaring loudly enough to not be overheard. "We've cleaned and removed the scents from your bedroom, got rid of everything that was broken, and fixed ya a meal, too. We've been hearing your stomach for hours." Melinda turned to walk back to the house, but Alcide was pacing, staring after the dump truck like a rabid dog, wanting to chase it down. "Alcide, c'mon and eat."

Oh, he wanted to chase that truck down, alright- snatch the driver out and pummel him into a bloody mess. Luckily, before he broke into a sprint, the truck turned on an adjacent street. As soon as the trespasser was gone from his sight, Alcide grew calm enough to focus again.

"Alcide? You're bleedin'." Horrified, Melinda took her Packmaster's hands into her own and pried his fingers away. Alcide clenched his fists so tightly that he broke the skin of his palms with the fingernails. Alcide's expression mirrored Melinda's upon seeing the self-inflicted damage. He stared in confusion at his hands, watching as the droplets of blood formed and trickled. "C'mon. Let's get you inside so we can clean that up."

Both started walking towards the house. "First time?" Melinda asked with a concerned crinkle of the brow. Alcide raised a questioning eyebrow in return. "Licking wounds?" she clarified.

"Uh, yeah." He was suddenly uncomfortable. The long silence as they marched down the side of the house to the backdoor, didn't help his nerves any either.

"Well, look." Melinda stopped outside the door and turned to Alcide with her head held high. "Just to get it out in the open, when you became ill you didn't leave us with any directives. Being as this" Melinda gestured towards the house, "is an all-female affair, I took it upon myself to decide what needed to be done. So if you're gonna be pissed at anyone, about anything, be pissed at me." She paused briefly to gauge his reaction, searching all over his face for any indication of whether she fucked up or not. There was nothing except a red tint to his cheeks as he nervously shifted from one foot to the other. The source of his embarrassment was obviously clear. "And," Alcide's eyes snapped to hers, "we all heard you in the bathroom."

Shit- he wanted to die of embarrassment. Strangers, no, _women_ heard the strangled grunt he let out when he came all over the shower curtain and they were all on the other side of the door, waiting in the kitchen!

"Us gals, we couldn't be happier that you stepped up. Whatever happens tonight, we've got your back."

"Huh?" Alcide was confused. He honestly believed that she and rest of the females would move to impeach him at the pack meeting for being a pervert, not have his back.

"Hey, no need to be embarrassed. You oughta be real proud for showing that level of restraint. Men usually can't control themselves- become possessive and shit. Most find themselves raping and marking a gal against her will. So, you did the right thing in calling us and leaving the room when you did. " Melinda made a move to turn the knob, but Alcide needed to ask.

"Wait. How long do these urges last? " he asked quietly and Melinda gave a small smile.

"You still want her?" Melinda asked, already knowing the answer. Alcide could only nod. Anything else would have been a blatant lie. "Let's go in. We'll explain what to expect while you eat. "

* * *

><p>After Alcide's cuts were cleaned and showed signs of being on the mend, the women formally introduced themselves; Tracy Callahan, Natalie Blankenship, Melinda Delacroix and her daughter Megan, and finally, Abigail Waters.<p>

Alcide stared at Abby and noted the striking resemblance, so similar that he found it odd; she has the same tousled dark brown hair, the same chocolate eyes with tiny flecks of gold near the pupils, the same olive colored complexion, and a fit physique despite the protruding belly. Out of all of the women, Abby could easily pass as his sister, more so than the sister he grew up with back in Mississippi.

With the formalities out of the way, Abby presented a heaping plate of food effectively breaking Alcide's train of thought. Cooking was the only thing Abby could contribute, as the other women cleaned house and cared for the female upstairs. After a near fall, Abby had the women bring all the runners from the main house to the kitchen, so there would be no more slips.

As he chewed, Alcide was more than a little uncomfortable at first, but by the second plate, he found the women were genuinely issuing some serious hero worship- thoroughly impressed that he'd left the room at all.

"We don't think you should lick her wounds anymore." There. Abby said it. She steered the conversation purposely, just as they'd planned. Well, Melinda was supposed to bring it up, but Abby was tired of waiting. It needed to be said out loud.

None of women wanted their new Packmaster in a predicament where he thought with his dick- like Marcus often had. The female upstairs had obviously been through enough pain in her lifetime, so to allow any further opportunity for misfortune was just plain wrong.

"Her name's Jannalyn" he corrected, between bites of food, finally giving them a name for the stranger.

"Fine. We don't think you should lick _Jannalyn's_ wounds anymore." Abby amended with narrowed eyes, earning incredulous looks from her pack sisters for the catty attitude and disrespectful demeanor. Abby was normally a gentle soul and never picked fights, well, up until she reached her second trimester. Her moods seemed to fluxuate more and more, as the pregnancy progressed.

The fork that had been shoveling food into Alcide's mouth for the last thirty minutes, halted above his plate. Melinda angled her body in front of Abby's, ready to receive the brunt end of the Packmaster's wrath.

Abby rolled her eyes, walked around Melinda, and approached the table. She placed a single hand on a massive shoulder, causing Alcide to look up to her from the seat.

"You've shown incredible control so far, but it's too much temptation. Men really shouldn't tend to a gal's wounds unless they're a pair, you know? Bad shit can happen."

He blinked a few times, turned his head, and went back to eating like she hadn't said anything. The women shared looks around the room wondering what to do next. If he went back into Jannalyn's room, he'd never come out and the poor woman would probably wake with him still inside of her…

"You're right" he muttered. "I'll try…but I want her…so bad." Alcide admitted, in between scarfing down forkfuls of roast. "God, and what's with my appetite? I feel like I haven't eaten in days."

"The wolf is gorging itself. You're in protection mode, so you'll eat lots for energy…just in case." Melinda supplied with a smirk, relieved he was amiable and amused at how little her Packmaster knew about the business of wolf healing.

The women gave an extensive explanation to Alcide's reaction.

Ingesting the smallest amount blood from a fertile female sends the male's reproductive system into overdrive, simply because the male body can't differentiate a wound from estrus. Ingesting large amounts of blood and body fluids can make a male vomit for days; so the practice of healing wounds was performed by the women in the pack, for those very reasons. Females don't suffer from the dilemma of weak stomachs or confused biological cues. The only exceptions to the unspoken rule are pairs.

The women reassured Alcide that the lustful urges would recede within the day – so long as he no longer tended to her wounds and steered clear of her scent- and because he initiated healing much like a mated wolf would, it was normal to feel protective of Jannalyn until she wakes or dies.

Granted, Jannalyn wasn't under any risk of dying, but the mere mention of it, made his stomach do a nosedive at the idea. His throat grew tight and there was an incredible sinking feeling taking over. Even though he could hear Jannalyn breathing and her strong heartbeat, he wanted to run back upstairs to check- confirm with his eyes that she was still in one piece. It took everything he had to stay seated.

The women also explained, due to the recent offense in the den, it was normal to be territorial. If Alcide's reaction to the dump truck driver was any indication, he'd probably flip his shit altogether if any male wolves entered the house while Jannalyn recovered. They suggested the pack meeting take place in the backyard near the tree line, under the guise of a cookout for any busy bodied neighbors.

Tracy and Natalie volunteered to play interference and act as guards to the main entryways during the pack meeting, something Alcide hadn't thought of and greatly appreciated. Megan and Abby would stay inside of the house to keep an eye on Jannalyn, while Melinda attended the meeting as the representative for all the women.

Looking around the room, he understood the roles the women had assigned themselves.

Melinda was obviously the eldest and most respected female of the bunch. Her natural leadership skills came through and he couldn't find a single fault in any of the decisions she made during his _illness_.

Tracy and Natalie seemed content to stay in the shadows as observers. Although they remained quiet for the most part, Alcide took in their positions in the room. One always orbited Abby, giving no more than ten feet of distance; the other gravitated around the youngest, Megan. Tracy and Natalie served as the cushion of protection to the most vulnerable sisters of pack, whether it was intentional or not.

Megan was the least confident of the bunch, but her primal instincts were eerily spot-on. Her wolf deciphered the Alpha's wants before her elders, something Alcide would have to file away to think about later.

Then there was Abby, the caretaker and comforter. She seemed to know what he needed, when he needed it, and offered comfort with the slightest of touches; an inconspicuous brush of her knuckles as she passed by, her belly lightly grazing his forearm when she moved around the table, and her calming hand on his shoulder every time she reached for his plate to replenish it…all of it profoundly soothed him and effectively distracted him from Jannalyn. The swollen belly in his peripheral vision, also gave him something to focus on, during the brief instances when he wasn't distracted by Abby's touches or the food.

Soon, Abby's activities were a source of amusement for Alcide; how she'd make a fuss when his plate looked low on food, how she'd sneak bites under the guise of 'tasting' the various dishes, then the exuberant claims of not being hungry, knowing damn well she was. He looked around the kitchen at the many casseroles and pots she'd been working on, realizing there were enough meals to last the week.

How long had she been on her feet?

"Why don't you sit down for a minute?" It was more than a suggestion, apparent by the seat he pulled out and the obvious glances from Abby to the chair.

"I'm fine." The words were thrown over her shoulder with a small smile, then she resumed rummaging from counter to cabinet for an elusive spice or utensil.

"Dammit, Abby. It'll make me feel better if you sit down and eat." Abby being Abby, didn't dismiss the urgency in his voice and immediately assumed he was distressed. She stopped what she doing to pay attention.

Alcide gave her 'the look'- the one he used on his Mama when he was a child. Sam Merlotte wasn't the only one who perfected sad puppy dog eyes.

Shocked by the vulnerable tone of Alcide's voice and the softening of his gaze, Abby conceded. "Okay. Maybe one plate."

"I don't mean to pry, but I noticed earlier that you haven't been around any males…" Alcide hedged, as he helped her into the chair.

"If you're gonna ask where the father is, I don't know. According to Marcus, Tony left the territory when he found out I was pregnant. He didn't bother to pack a bag, just up and left." With a small sniffle Abby wiped at her eyes, and in the next second her voice was harsh. "I didn't believe Marcus, so we" Abby gestured around the room, "we set out to look for him. We followed Tony's scent trail to the edge of the territory and it disappeared near a freeway. There's been no word since." Abby let out a sob, but quickly reined it back. "We weren't an official pair but we were working towards it, moved in together and everything! It just doesn't make any sense! Tony wanted kids. He wanted _me_." The vehemence and desperation in her voice was heartbreaking. By the time Abby was done with her rant, she was pacing the kitchen.

Alcide was positive Marcus was behind the disappearance. By the sounds of things, Marcus probably forced Tony out of the territory for one reason or another, but Alcide didn't want to voice his suspicions without irrefutable proof. It wouldn't be fair to get Abby's hopes up in a possible reunion, if they later discovered this Tony character tucked tail and ran from his responsibility.

A few tears slid down Abby's face as she paced, so he did what felt natural. He stood in front of her and pulled her in for a hug. He bent down to her height and rubbed his cheeks against hers, on both sides, in a very wolf-like gesture of nuzzling.

"I'm sorry I upset you. Could you forgive a nosey asshole?" She blinked a few times and held in a giggle while he wiped under her eyes with his thumbs. "C'mon, sit down and eat." He helped her back into her seat, mindful of the baby bump. "How far along are you?" He'd been dying to ask. He needed to know how much time he had to iron out any issues with the pack.

"Almost twenty-six weeks." Abby's hand made a wide circle on her stomach and she gave a small smile.

"Or six and half months, which means she shouldn't shift anymore." Melinda supplied, while fixing Abby a generous helping of food. Melinda walked from the stove and set the plate in front of Abby, whose eyes widened at the large piece of roast on her plate.

"I can't possibly eat all this!" Abby complained. "The smell of meat still makes me nauseated."

"Too bad. You need more protein." Melinda glared and Abby glared right back. "Your Pops may _be_ one, but don't act like that's a baby Norman in there." Melinda pointed to Abby's plate. "Protein. Eat it."

"Did you say Norman?" Alcide asked with an amused smirk.

"Norman, Norma- you know, _normals_." Melinda answered with a feigned shudder of disgust and the ladies began giggling away at their pack sister's antics.

All except one.

Megan stared out the backdoor window with crossed arms, lost in her own thoughts. She didn't like what went down upstairs. Her wolf seemed to _always_ be doing stupid shit and now her wolf was doing dangerous shit. What's worse is that she couldn't control herself. Her wolf was overcome with a need to placate the Alpha- a need to calm him and please him despite the chance of physical harm. Approaching an agitated and aggressive dominant wolf? That move trumped the time her wolf picked a fight with a skunk!

And that female…

Upon seeing Jannalyn it gave Megan the creeps, but after seeing her scars up close, Megan both feared and felt sorry for her. Most of the scars were clearly from fighting; the claw and bite marks from two-natured and torn fang marks from vamps, but there were others…

A few hours ago, lifting the sedated woman from the tub became a slippery task, so Megan got in behind Jannalyn while Tracy and Melinda heaved at her arms and legs. She touched something that felt weird and when she checked Jannalyn's bare back, Megan was compelled to drape Jannalyn's long chestnut hair over the expanse of it to keep from becoming distracted.

These scars were deeper than the others; so deep that they stood out from the hundreds that littered the female's body. Many, many scars across her back on a crisscrossing diagonal… the marks from a whip. Had Megan not seen macabre pictures her peers brought in on the topic of 'Crime and Punishment' in her History class last semester, she wouldn't have recognized what she had seen. Megan visibly shivered, inadvertently drawing Alcide's attention.

Alcide watched as Megan stared off into space with a haunted look in her eyes. Her arms tightly hugged around her torso, like she was falling apart at the seams and trying to hold it together.

A hot, rough hand touched her shoulder. "Hey, kiddo. What's wrong?" Alcide asked.

Megan shook her head dismissively and tried to give a genuine smile. "It's nothing."

But Alcide knew what 'nothing' meant in the world of women, whatever it was- it was huge and _he_ probably did it. He wouldn't be surprised, since his inner insensitive asshole kept making appearances today.

"You wanna try again? I didn't fall for it that time." Alcide quickly retorted and watched as Megan's eyes shifted around, trying to sort her thoughts.

"Her scars, they really bother me." Megan muttered, as her head dropped in shame for not keeping her mouth shut like all the other women. "Do you know how she got them?"

Alcide wondered when the women would bring it up, and up until Megan broached the subject, none had bothered. The room grew silent awaiting his answer.

"No. She didn't say and I didn't ask. I wanted to, but didn't, and you wanna know why?" Megan nodded once. "Because once you know, you can't erase the knowledge or make it go away. Sometimes, it's best to leave the past where it is, and focus on the now."

Megan found herself nodding in agreement. He was right. It was Jannalyn's business, which certainly didn't make it okay for Megan to discuss what she'd seen with others. Focusing on the present situation, she tried to think of ways to help.

"She's a lone wolf, right?" Alcide nodded in the affirmative. "I was just thinking...she doesn't have anything to wear when she wakes up. I mean, she could wear your clothes but they wouldn't be very flattering."

"That's a great idea, Meg." Melinda patted her daughter's shoulder. "Maybe you should run home and go through our closets. Find Jannalyn a few things to choose from."

"And while you're at it, go to my house and get the two boxes in my living room marked for the Goodwill. It's all the stuff I can't fit anymore." Abby added between bites of food.

Melinda dangled her keys and Megan's eyes lit up. "BUT, if you wreck my car or get a ticket, you're paying the insurance until it lowers. Got it?"

"Really, Momma?" When Melinda nodded, the squeal of joy from Megan was both deafening and comical. Like a typical teenager with a new driver's license, she jumped up and down a few times.

Just like that, some levity returned and the women went back to joking around the table while Megan- and Natalie- prepared to leave.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Jannalyn was listening in from upstairs and had been for quite some time.<p>

Jannalyn's conscious mind became aware, minutes before the bath. She had forgotten where she was again and panicked when she couldn't move her limbs or open her eyes. Her head hurt and her entire torso felt like it was on fire. Obviously, she'd been hurt and she tried to remember what happened, but as usual, whenever she sustained an injury there were gaps in her memory. Sometimes, only minutes were lost. Other times, she lost hours and days.

As Alcide's scent filled Jannalyn's nostrils, and as hot hands touched her naked extremities, she roared in outrage inside of her head for a solid ten minutes. At the feel of more than one pair of hands on her skin, she almost lost her mind. She wailed and screamed for them to stop, but they kept touching her. _Jostling her_. They lifted and moved her. The sensation of water sent her into another panic; she was sure they were dumping her in the swamps to drown or be eaten alive by the gators. She tried to scream out loud but nothing came out. She tried to move but couldn't.

After a lengthy internal breakdown, Jannalyn calmed enough to realize she was surrounded by women, quietly whispering while giving her a bath.

"_How did he do it? How did he walk away?"_

"_I don't know." _

"_When she__ wakes up, s__omebody's gotta tell her nothing happened.__ We can't let her think…__"_

"_Is she gonna believe us?" _

"_Don't know." _

Jannalyn didn't believe what they were implying, not for a solitary second. She quickly deduced Alcide licked her wounds at one point, but she had never heard of a male that could walk away afterwards, never.

She also smelled the fading scent of Ludwig, which explained her condition. As agreed, upon any medical crisis Ludwig would administer a temporary paralytic. It renders the body immobile as a safeguard for Ludwig, but also allowed complete awareness when the conscious mind awoke, as a safeguard for Jannalyn.

Soon enough, she heard the bath being drained as the water gurgled down the pipes.

One of the females ran her fingers along Jannalyn's back and gasped, but said nothing to the others, only moving Jannalyn's wet hair to cover the worst of her scars. She felt better when they placed her on a soft bed with fresh sheets, but whatever happened to her torso, the skin began to itch.

_"Momma, Aunt Nat, I can handle this.__ Go help Aunt Trace.__"_ The same female patiently combed her coarse unruly hair, wordlessly applied lotion to her arms and legs, and carefully smoothed balm on her dry lips. _"Your burns look a lot better, but Momma said to put this cream on to help with the itchin'__."_ The girl said softly. Burns? How did she get burned? Jannalyn almost didn't hear her next words. "_God, I sound stupid talkin' to myself." _

"_Who ya talkin' to sugar?"_ A voice asked.

"_They say people in comas can hear. Figured this might be the same?"_ The girl sounded so unsure, but she was so right.

Jannalyn was also aware when Alcide woke up and entered the room. The drumming of his heartbeat, the muttered obscenities, and jagged breaths indicated that he was in fact struggling with the urge to claim her body, but he left the room all the same.

The women hadn't lied. He walked away. Twice.

And Jannalyn didn't know what do with this new piece of information. How bad were these burns? Had she finally become so scarred and ugly that it overrode instinct? Apparently, she had.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Love it? Hate it? Let me know. **


	5. All is Adjourned

**A high five to all who recently followed via story alerts and to those who continue to follow, you guys rock! **

**Also, a dramatic over-the-top curtsy to those who left a review. Your feedback keeps me motivated- so thank you from the very bottom of my heart. **

**BTW, thanks to all who gave great suggestions for titles, however, "Beauty Is Scarred Deep" from **Day-Of-The-Dead-TattooGal , really fits the story. Thank you, so much! ****

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>**

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Five: All is Adjourned**

* * *

><p>The sun was setting. Cars and motorcycles were beginning to line up and park, up and down the quiet street. As discussed, Melinda directed everyone to the backyard, where the mock cookout was staged.<p>

Alcide leaned against the vinyl siding, watching everyone make the trek down the side of the house. As they passed, he greeted no one, spoke to no one, nor did any of the males attempt a greeting of their own. There was no need to speak until the pack meeting was underway and he'd be damned if he exchanged pleasantries with any who sought to overthrow him.

Although Alcide remained perfectly still, the pack could sense the alert agitation lingering right below the surface of his skin. His wolf was waiting… for someone, for anyone to buck up like they had a pair. So, they all gave Alcide a wide girth, respecting his space, just in case he was anxious enough to lash out.

From his vantage point, Alcide silently watched the other wolves. He mentally noted their ages and how they reacted and moved around one another. There were three visible groupings; the elders- five men who were older than Alcide by fifteen years or more, the adults- men who were closer to Alcide's age of thirty five, give or take a few years, and the adolescents-a group of twenty one and under, consisting of the seven little shits Luna tore into last night.

Based on previous recollections, Alcide quickly determined the compliant from the troublemakers, and armed with this information, he mentally prepared for any challengers. But so far, none of the problematic wolves have attempted to look him directly in the eyes and were still respecting his space.

At seven o'clock, thirty four were gathered at the tree line, instead of forty one. Sweeping the property with his eyes, he discovered the seven adolescents loitering near the patio furniture, way too close to the house for Alcide's liking. "Over there with the rest of 'em!" Alcide barked out, watching as their scolded forms retreated behind the elders with scrunched up shoulders.

He was not to be fucked with, not tonight.

Tonight is as crucial as last night.

Just as it is with vampires swearing fealty to the Sheriff of an area, the ascension to the seat of Packmaster means nothing until obedience is sworn. If there was any dispute of his rights to the highest seat within the pack, the opposition had plenty of time to find allies; and if the opposition outnumbered Alcide's followers, this quiet night could just as easily turn into a bloodbath.

Specifically, he worried that J. D. Carson and Nate Martin would dispute his ascension. Although killing Marcus had been justified, Alcide didn't want the body count to grow; but if a challenge was presented, he would do what needed to be done keep the title.

A lot more than the seat was at stake. His thoughts drifted to Jannalyn, an unconscious lone wolf in another's territory, if Alcide fell tonight who knows what would happen to her.

Alcide stalked forward, moving like a true predator towards the pack. His movements were controlled yet fluid, powerful yet graceful. His position in the pack was most certainly clear, as all simultaneously quieted and looked in his direction. All paid close attention as he spoke.

"I am Alcide Herveaux, rightful and acting Master of the Long Tooth Pack. Any opposed to my ascension, speak now and make a challenge, or fall to a knee and swear obedience."

Melinda was the first to fall on one knee. "I represent myself, Megan Delacroix, Tracy Callahan, Natalie Blankenship, and Abigail Waters of the Long Tooth. We will obey."

Some of the men shared looks, as Melinda and the other women were usually the hardest to win over. They were always extremely critical of Marcus and disagreed with most of his ways. Yet, they were unanimous in backing the new Packmaster.

Melinda's, Tracy's, and Natalie's mates were the next to fall on one knee, backing the judgment of their partners. This swayed many who were undecided; despite all of the macho male bullshit and bravado of a typical wolf pack, a pack was nothing without healers. One by one, the remaining males swore allegiance, the words 'I will obey' echoed around the yard.

Seeing no challengers, Alcide stood tall and stationary. With crossed arms, he began the proceedings. The messiest matters were usually the first order of business, for a reason. "Nate Martin, step forward."

Marcus Bozeman's second in command, humbly strolled to the front of the group, nodding in the direction of J. D. and the rest of Marcus' 'alpha understudies' as he passed. Alcide carefully watched as Nate descended to one knee before him, suspicious of the averted eyes and the show of good behavior.

As the Beta under Marcus, Nate Martin could have challenged Alcide's rights to the highest seat but instead, swore allegiance. It was a political move, in hopes of keeping rank as Beta, but there was no way Alcide would keep the bandana wearing smart mouth from the garage in any position of power. As far as he was concerned, Nate Martin had to prove he wasn't another Marcus, before Alcide would allow the smallest dominion over the others.

"Based on your actions under Marcus, you've been stripped of rank within this pack."

Glowing yellow eyes snapped up to look Alcide directly in the eyes, a challenge fueled by impulse and animalistic rage. "What?" Nate snarled as he sprung to tackle Alcide, but Alcide saw him coming. With a loud crack, Alcide's jean clad knee connected with Nate's face, breaking his nose and cheek bone on impact.

Everyone winced. However, no one moved to protect Nate or aide him in any way, as he writhed in pain in the grass. The sharp metallic smell of blood inundated the humid night air. It was like a drop of blood in a sea of ravenous sharks and Alcide was the Great White, circling slowly.

"Get up!" Alcide roared with eyes ablaze as Nate cradled his bloody face. Sluggishly, Nate re-assumed position on bended knee. "Was that a challenge or will you obey?"

After a failed attack on a Packmaster, the choices were simple; submit or die. Watching carefully for the slightest offensive movement, Alcide awaited Nate's answer and prepared to beat him into a bloody unmoving pulp.

"I'll…I'll obey" the kneeling wolf whispered, swallowing the groan of pain from having to move any part of his damaged face.

"I hear you, but they don't. Speak louder!" Every word was a growl as Alcide fought the lupine compulsion to cull the traitorous from the pack.

"I will obey!" he wailed. Morosely, Nate hung his head. The inflammation from broken facial bones had already begun to swell his eyes shut and restrict his breathing.

"Damn right you will," Alcide glowered, "and you'll take your place at the bottom."

The pack knew the significance of these words; Nate Martin had been demoted to omega, the lowest in rank for the stunt he just pulled. Alcide nodded his head to the rear of the pack, dismissing Nate Martin from his sight. Only then, did pack brothers help to move him, as far away from Alcide as possible.

He addressed the others, who had been silent and still.

"Effective immediately, all honorary titles under Marcus are null and void, including this _'alpha understudy'_ bullshit. If I fall, only _one_ will rise, the Beta. There will _not_ be fifteen motherfuckers fighting for a seat you don't deserve in the first place!" Alcide's chest heaved as he tried to regain some calm before his wolf busted out. The last thing he needed was the entire pack following suit, all shifting into wolves in Shreveport suburbia.

"But you don't have a Beta now, you just fuckin' demoted him!" J. D. stomped forward. "The laws say you must have a Beta to ascend, or are you above our laws?" J. D. challenged, looking for agreement from the others.

Alcide wanted to bash his face in, but knew that's what J. D. wanted. The old wolf was trying to create dissension within the pack. However, this wasn't a situation that called for brawn, but called for brains. Alcide needed to display a leveled head on his shoulders or he'd never get the respect of the pack…he had their fear, but not their respect, not yet.

"The Beta was demoted after swearing obedience. He didn't contest my ascension as Master, or did you miss that part? The laws say I can choose a new Beta at any time for any reason."

A round of 'he's right' and 'umhms' sounded off, completely infuriating a flustered J. D.

"Fuck this! There are others who are better suited, others who've been here longer! You are practically a stranger to most of us!"

A snarl echoed out into the night air, but it wasn't J. D. or Alcide. "Shut the fuck up J. D.!"

The pack sniffed the air, already recognizing the scent before a figure emerged from the trees- Martha Bozeman, Marcus' mother. She strolled to the front, like she owned the place and J. D. took his place by her side.

"I'm not here for trouble. I just wanted to tell you face-to-face that under the circumstances- the fact that you killed my son- I can't be your subordinate."

"You tell 'em Martha!" J. D. piped up.

"Didn't I tell you to shut the fuck up?" Martha growled threateningly at J. D. "Your bullshit is gonna get _both_ of us exiled from the territory! I have a grandbaby here and I won't let your mouth fuck that up for me!"

"Martha Bozeman, I accept your resignation and you're free to stay as long as there's no trouble." Alcide gave her a pointed look, she nodded quickly in agreement. "J. D., you swore obedience, are you with Martha on resigning? It seems you're having difficulty being a subordinate also." This was the best option, to offer the old wolf an easy out, versus keeping a problematic wolf in the pack.

J. D. stared at Martha and weighed his options. He knew Martha didn't care what he decided, her grandchild would always trump J. D. or any other person for that matter. What made her happy, made him happy and he already had too much invested in their relationship to throw it away by staying under the new Master of the pack. His decision was clear. "I'm with Martha. Always was. We're getting too old for all this pack business anyways."

"John Denver Carson, I accept your resignation and the same applies, absolutely no trouble...out of either of you." Both nodded and promptly left the premises, the exact path Martha had come, disappearing into the trees.

"Everyone rise."

Most shared looks again, but obeyed.

"Games begin on the next full moon. In two full moons, a Beta and Gamma will be chosen. Those with a criminal record, get back on one knee." The members of the pack with criminal histories fell to a knee, which were mostly men in Alcide's age range, while the others looked around at one another.

"What does that have to do with anything?" One of the younger adolescents whispered. The red-haired culprit looked to be around fifteen or sixteen years old.

_Those little assholes weren't taught a fucking thing._ Alcide exposed his teeth and growled, annoyed with all the interruptions.

The youngster received a swift elbow to the ribs by one of his peers- Mr. Loudmouth Ringleader from last night- sporting a partially healed scratch from Luna on his forearm. "Sir, we'd like to know wh…"

"What's your name?" Alcide interrupted.

"Cody McCoy, Sir."

"Cody, huh?" Alcide appraised the younger wolf for a breath or two. He was a tall, lanky blonde, around twenty years old. Obviously, Cody thought he ran the adolescents...well, he thought wrong. "Why are you speaking for him?" he gestured towards the younger red-head. Cody opened his mouth to answer, but Alcide interrupted again. "It was a rhetorical question. You speak for _no one_ until I've established that you've earned that right. Are we clear?" Cody nodded nervously.

"What's your name, kiddo?" Alcide asked the youngest male. He thought Megan was the youngest of the pack, but he'd been mistaken.

"Troy, Sir" the teenager audibly gulped, "Troy Riddle."

"To answer your question, Troy, every arrest draws unwanted attention and is a risk for exposure. If a wolf shows blatant disregard for human laws, I can't trust that he or she will follow my lead. Those still standing are able to compete for the two vacant seats, the rest are disqualified. Of those still standing, who knows the territory lines?"

"I do. I know the territory like the back of my hand." A built gentleman of creole descent answered. He was a shade darker than Alcide, with salt pepper colored hair and hard hazel eyes.

"Your name?"

"Julien Delacroix." Alcide's eyes swept over to Melinda, who restrained a smile and held her head a little higher.

"And how often are the borders patrolled?" Movement caught Alcide's attention. Many looked away nervously, except the older gents of the pack; they stayed perfectly still with eyes looking forward.

"Officially, almost never." Julien answered.

"Why the fuck not?" Alcide roared, causing some of the pack to cringe. He trembled from the anger coursing through his body at the incompetence… the complete disregard for the safety of the pack…what kind of freak show was Marcus runnin'?

Alcide would've _never_ joined this pack if he'd known how careless Marcus had been. Borders that weren't patrolled made the territory susceptible to attack, from _other packs_. To assume control of a territory, all dominant males were killed to avoid future usurps and coup d'états… and the females- well, if they survived, they usually faced a fate worse than death.

"Due to our pack size, Marcus assumed an easy victory if another pack encroached. However…" Julien took a deep breath. "Unofficially, a handful of us ran the border; three or four times a month to keep the scent strong and to keep an eye on things. Marcus was too busy throwin' shindigs and chasin' tail to notice our activities either way." Julien squared his shoulders, prepared to meet the consequences on behalf of all who were guilty.

Alcide knew why Julien was hesitant to disclose the activities of the _handful_. They'd broken protocol by performing tasks behind Marcus' back- a punishable offense. But Alcide understood why they did it _unofficially_. The reasons were in his kitchen all afternoon.

"And I can guess which handful ran with you." Alcide took in a deep breath and scratched at his beard, trying to decide how he should handle this situation. "Those who ran the border, come forward."

The elders of the Pack made their way to the front and descended to a knee. As if in silent prayer, Melinda closed her eyes. After a few seconds, she proceeded to the front and kneeled next to her mate, Julien.

"It seems some of you don't know the fundamental rule of Pack Duty. _The One protects and serves the Whole. The Whole protects and serves the One._"

All of the older pack members mouthed the words as Alcide spoke them, including Melinda, and that was the deciding factor for Alcide. These wolves were old school; firm believers of traditions and duties- and running the perimeter of the territory is both, going back generations.

"This _handful_ served the Whole, when Marcus failed to do so. There was no crime committed and there will be no punishment." Alcide moved forward and placed a palm on each one's shoulders. It was a silent thank you. "You may rise."

Wolves have impressive stamina, but it tends to wean as a wolf ages. Alcide imagined what it was like for the elders to run the border, the wear and tear on their joints alone probably had them aching for days.

"Julien Delacroix is now the provisional Beta until one is officially chosen. Since he knows our borders the best, he will devise a patrol schedule by the end of the week. Everyone will learn our borders. Cody!" Alcide called out.

"Sir?" It was a yelp of surprise from the young man, whose interrupted thoughts were of Megan and what she'd been doing all day in Alcide's giant house.

"You, Troy, and the rest of the adolescents are on patrol after the meeting. Who is up for taking them out tonight?"

"I'll do it." Another older gent called out. He was lean and muscular, despite the heavy grey in his hair. "I'm a lil' slower these days, but I know the territory just as good as the Delacroixs."

"Your name?" Alcide was beginning to feel like an ass for not knowing all the names of his pack. In the beginning, he only joined to satisfy Debbie, and kept his distance from the others. Now, he really regretted not getting to know them sooner.

"Albert Monroe, but call me Bert for short."

"Alright, Bert. Show these boys the ropes. If _any_ step outta line, I expect you to introduce them to the old ways." Alcide smirked, knowing that the old man understood.

Alcide's elders in Mississippi employed a certain kind of punishment for the young and disobedient; a bite to the base of an ear or a nip to the upper thigh, near the groin. Both are extremely painful, but left no permanent damage, as long as teeth didn't pierce skin.

The old man's eyes lit up with a mischievous grin painted on his face. "Yes, Sir. Ain't done it in a long time, but I'm happy to oblige."

"Good." Alcide clapped him on the shoulder and leaned in. "Now, you run the hell outta our boys. They're outta shape, and the tired can't cause problems."

"I understand." Bert looked over his shoulder at Cody and the adolescent males, all of whom looked nervous. They'd had it too easy under Marcus; never learned Pack Duty and had no real responsibilities. _About high time for change around here_- Bert thought, and he looked forward to it, even if the run tonight would kick his ass for the next two days.

"The last order of business; Abigail Waters is currently at six and half months gestation. From what I'm told, she shouldn't shift anymore. So from now on, Abby is exempt from Pack Duty and meetings, until she is fit to return. We'll reconvene on the next full moon. You'll be called with the time and location. All is adjourned."

* * *

><p>The feet of a wooden chair shrilled as it slid backwards on the tile.<p>

"I'm turning in. Good night, ladies." Having finished another meal, Alcide was full and ready to lounge in bed. He only wanted to be upstairs; despite being separated by a few rooms, it was still closer to Jannalyn.

"Oh no, you're not." For a pregnant woman, Abby moved pretty damn fast and had already blocked his path. He skidded to halt, to keep from running her over.

"No?" he questioned, looking down at the top of her head.

"Uh-uh." He looked around at the other women, trying to find some help with Abby, but found none. "Sit." Abby pointed to the seat he just rose from.

"Sit? I'm ready for bed!" he grounded out, trying to move around Abby, only to be met step for step.

"I don't care. Sit." Her eyes narrowed and she pointed to the chair again, clearly having no intention of letting him pass.

"What the hell is your problem?"

"You're the one with the problem." Her chin jutted out, and Alcide growled low in aggravation. "Oh, don't you growl at me!" she growled back with angry bright orange eyes. "I get that you're bigger, taller, tougher than me, but I'll have you know that if I weren't pregnant, you'd be in real danger of losing man parts, right about now!"

Alcide's wolf should have been furious, his will had been challenged in his own house no less, but surprisingly, the wolf was unresponsive and it left Alcide a little confused.

"Abby! Control yourself!" Melinda reprimanded, which went ignored as Alcide and Abby stood toe-to-toe. "Think of the baby!"

"Mind your own, Melinda. I _am_ thinking about _this_ baby." Abby snapped with growl. The foot shorter mini replica of Alcide in female form, would not back down. "Everybody out! I need to _speak_ to him alone."

Everyone would hear the conversation regardless of location in the house, but Abby wanted Alcide's undivided attention and the illusion of privacy. So, the women filed out, except for Tracy.

"You too, Trace. If he was gonna hurt me, he would've by now." Tracy didn't budge. "I swear to _God_ if you don't get out, I'm fucking you up after I deliver this baby!"

"Jesus! Fine!" Tracy muttered something about 'crazy pregnant mood swings' while walking out. She didn't go far though; she was just outside the kitchen entryway, lingering as always.

"Now you sit your ass down, looking up at you is hurtin' my neck."

Alcide rolled his eyes but sat down with a huff. The sooner he found out what the hell was wrong with this insufferable woman, the sooner he'd be upstairs. "Whatever it is, please, _do_ go on and quickly. I don't wanna sit here all night." He grumbled with as much irritation as he could muster.

"Of course you don't. You'd rather be upstairs acting like a lovesick puppy or some mindless horn dog." Abby quipped while pointedly staring at Alcide, daring him to deny it.

Alcide opened his mouth to cuss her out, but thought better of it. Instead, he pressed his lips together and let out another low rumbled growl. He wasn't going to entertain an argument with a pregnant she-wolf. Mood swings are considered normal in two-natured pregnancies and she probably couldn't help it anyways. Besides, his mama would have his nuts in vice, if she ever heard about it, Packmaster or not.

"I'm gonna tell you a story, because you need to hear it.

My mother never joined a pack, because she didn't want to be tied down to an area and wanted to be more than just breeding stock. Back then, the Elders generally matched mates, much like arranged marriages, and my mother wanted no parts of that shit. She wanted to go to college, see the world, and make her own way.

So, my mother rejected a betrothed wolf and she left home against her parents' wishes- with nothing but her car, some grants, and her college savings; money she accumulated over the course of four or five summers.

One evening, while attending her first year of university, the wolf needed out so she went for a run on the outskirts of town. A small herd of deer caught her attention and during the chase, the herd crossed a back road. She was hit by a car but it kept going. Hours later, someone else found her right before she lost consciousness.

A week later, she woke up in some sleazy motel room with a wolf and you can guess what happened while he tended her wounds.

Anyhow, he cried and begged her forgiveness; said he couldn't help himself, that she smelled so good that everything that ever mattered to him, didn't at the time.

My mother wasn't mad at him though, not a first. He hadn't taken her virginity, nor could she remember any trauma from the event other than getting hit by the car , so she thought it was a small price to pay in exchange for being alive…until she saw his teeth marks on the side of her neck.

Imagine my mother's surprise when the wolf said he had a wife and had two small children waiting at home. She argued that marriage was nothing but a human ceremony, that among weres a mark carried more value, but he didn't see it that way. He marked my mother where she couldn't hide it but didn't want her; AND to add insult to injury, he wouldn't publicly denounce their ties because he was afraid of the consequences back home with his wife and pack.

Needless to say, my mother went off on him; scratched him real deep down the side of his back, so he'd be forced to wear something of hers for the rest of his life too. She could've marked him back, make him go back to his wife wearing it; but she really didn't want him or love him, and she'd be damned if he ever wore an impression of her teeth like he meant something to her.

Since she had no pack affiliation, he knew no one would be out for blood, BUT he offered _compensation for the trouble_, ten grand to be exact. Back then, that was a lot of money but she told him to take his money and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. They parted ways. He went back to wherever he'd come from and she went back to school.

Of course, as fate would have it, my mother found out she was pregnant with me when she didn't get her period. She knew she couldn't abort me; a firstborn to two wolf parents- odds were, I carried the gene- and if anyone found out that she aborted a firstborn, well, you know the laws of our kind…

Knowing she couldn't hide her pregnancy for much longer, my mother went home to her parents and told them what happened. They said that if my mother hadn't left in the first place, then she wouldn't be carrying an unwanted mark or a bastard firstborn. They disowned her- the both of us, and had the local pack escort her from the territory.

As a college student, my mother struggled financially. She took in a roommate, a human male that she shared a few classes with, but after her first bill from a prenatal visit, she knew she needed more help. And having no means of support from family, she decided to track down the father and take him up on the money he offered.

When she finally found him, he gave her the money, but warned her to never look for him again. He said he didn't want his family destroyed over a mistake he picked up on the side of a road…that he should have left her for dead."

Low growls erupted from different locations in the house, including Alcide's.

"My mother got a happy ending, though. She finished her education and saw the world. The best part of this story is the Norman, the human roommate. He loved my mother, so he married her, and that's the man I call Pops."

"Abby, I get it. Bad shit can happen." Alcide grumbled. "You didn't have to tell me your life story to convince me… I won't do that to Jannalyn. I would _never_ hurt her. I swear it."

"That's just it. Right now, you'd kill for her… die for her. You probably think you'd still want her when she wakes, but you won't Alcide. It's just the blood in your system."

Alcide knew she was speaking the truth. The sexual urges have somewhat faded, but the urge to protect hasn't. It didn't take a genius to realize Abby was trying to protect Alcide from himself...that she didn't want history to repeat itself.

"I understand, Abby. I really do. I've resisted so far, but I promise, no funny business with Jannalyn."

"Well that's good," Abby smiled, "but there's more I wanted to talk to you about."

"Okay."

"I called my mother today, bragging about you." Abby confessed quietly into her lap. Alcide raised an eyebrow, alert to the rapid changes in her mood. She went from wanting to rip his head off, to urgent determination, to quiet shyness in a matter of minutes. "Our new Packmaster is so caring, has a good head on his shoulders, that kind of stuff… I told her your name, where you were from…" Alcide eyed her carefully. He hoped she wasn't confessing a crush.

"She told me to stay away from you. _You,_ Alcide. Now why would she do that?" Abby asked thoughtfully as a means to get Alcide to think. "I've figured it out, I suppose…I just need _you_ to get on the same page and ask the right questions."

Alcide closed his eyes, a nervous tension filling the air as his mind began to speculate. Anxiety settled into the pit of his stomach and flooded outwards to his bones. Abby's story- her mother's reaction to _his_ name had something to do with her story- he just knew it. "This wolf that marked your mother, what was his name?"

"My mother only told me his first name, the same name of the city he lives in." His mind rapidly connected the dots on its own; their similarities, the scar, the name, the city… and then she muttered the name. "Jackson."

* * *

><p>There was a lengthy silence before either spoke, but once they began speaking again; they couldn't stop exchanging and comparing information. Their discussion moved to the living room, so both could be comfortable on the softer couches versus the hard wooden kitchen chairs.<p>

Growing up, Alcide probably saw his father's scar a thousand times and now he knew exactly where it came from and why he had it.

"Let's get tested." Abby opted for the high road, the safest possible route in her current condition and emotional state. She wanted to have her DNA tested against Alcide's to confirm or debunk their theories; before her entire world was turned upside down or before she became emotionally attached.

"Testing is expensive. We look alike for crying out loud! You're a Herveaux, I know it." Excited with the prospect of having one more sister, Alcide spoke animatedly, until Abby winced, like she'd been slapped.

"No, I'm not." She shook her head sadly at Alcide. "I'm not a McAvoy, either. No disrespect, but neither of those names mean anything to me. My Pops claimed me and raised me as his own… I'm a Waters-always will be. I hope you understand that."

Outside the confidence of her pack sisters, Abby didn't want anyone else to know about the situation until the test results returned. Even if the results came back positive, she wasn't sure if she wanted the rest of the Herveauxs privy to her existence or remotely involved in her life. Nor did she want any special treatment from Alcide if their theories proved correct.

"You can't ask me to do that. It's not right. If the results say you're my sister, you're getting a big brother whether you want one or not. If the results say you _aren't_ my sister- that everything we discussed tonight is a bunch of odd coincidences- we're pack. Either way, you're kinda stuck with me."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right" she whispered. Both settled into a comfortable silence on the couch, sitting side by side.

Around midnight, Melinda, Tracy, and Natalie said their goodbyes to return to their mates. Megan, who had been staying with Jannalyn, assured the injuries were healing well, but the incessant urge to see with his own eyes hadn't ceased. Not in the slightest.

Alcide showered and prepared for bed in his usual manner. He climbed into bed and tried to get comfortable, to no avail. He was physically exhausted, but was mentally wide awake.

Staring at the ceiling, he mulled over the life altering changes of the last few days. Granted, it was a series of unfortunate choices and events at first, but as fucked up as it was, he found himself thanking Debbie. If she hadn't wanted to join the pack in the first place, all the other events that led up to his ascension wouldn't have happened.

And being Packmaster to a large pack…the responsibility was a huge undertaking, one he wouldn't take lightly. Marcus was an incompetent leader and protector, but the pack remained intact and unharmed during his tenure of five years. It was a clear testament to the abilities of the elder wolves currently under Alcide's command.

The next few months would be taxing, as are all adjustments, but his outlook was positive. After some clear directives were given about expectations and duties; and with a competent Beta and Gamma to divide responsibilities with, he was certain that everything would be alright.

Finally feeling the bulk of the day's stresses disappearing, his eyes started to close... but Jannalyn's soft whines drifted to his ears...and he almost went running. Almost.

Every cry of discomfort seemed to reach into his chest and constrict his insides. He wanted to be in that room taking care of her, lying with her, but he remembered Abby's words- _Bad shit can happen._

And Alcide would not make the same mistakes his father made. _No fuckin' way in hell._

Reaching for his phone, he did the only thing he could think of, he called Ludwig. This time, she picked up on the first ring despite the early morning hour of three a.m. He didn't get a chance to say 'hello'.

"How many are hurt? Is my presence required?" she rushed out.

"None are hurt, Ludwig. The burns are healing well, but she's in pain. She's _crying_ in her sleep." Alcide tried to keep his voice steady and strong, but failed miserably.

"I don't hear her. She's not with you?" Ludwig asked. Alcide heard scuffling commotion in Ludwig's background.

"No. She's with a couple of females, just down the hall." He grumbled wretchedly, like the lovesick puppy Abby said he was. Alcide rolled his eyes at himself, but then he realized something. "Why do you think she's up already when it's only been…"he looked down at his watch, "roughly twenty hours? I thought you said she would be out for at least two days. What aren't you telling me?"

Ludwig didn't really care that she'd been called out on a little deception. Her kind doesn't trust other supes. In her experience, vampires, witches, and faeries are the most manipulative species; two-natured, daemon, and goblins were the most volatile in temperament. In order to contend and interact with supes in general; exaggerations, omissions, and partial disclosure of facts were a necessity. However, Ludwig trusted her gut and her intuition told her she could trust this particular Packmaster.

"I injected her with a cocktail of paralytics made from an assortment of plant toxins and animal venom. I don't know how long it will last."

It took him a few seconds to process what he heard. "You did what?" he bellowed.

"Calm yourself, wolf! Our girl is known for attacking others and the risk of injury is significantly greater if she wakes during medical treatment."

"You could've just doped her up, with anesthesia or something!"

"Her body metabolizes analgesics, narcotics, and anesthetics at an incredible rate. Frankly, none of it sufficiently works anymore, so I don't bother."

"But venom? Toxins? Won't that shit kill her?"

"No. As I've tried to explain, she has an unusual metabolism. Her body is capable of breaking down toxins, venoms, and poisons that would kill the average supe. Fortunately, she has an abnormally high threshold for pain, the likes I've never seen before." Alcide's sharp intake of breath stopped the doctor's account of Jannalyn's unusual medical history.

"So, if she's crying that means…oh God no." He let out a groan of helplessness and Ludwig felt sorry for the giant wolf. "She's suffering isn't she?"

"Don't jump to conclusions just yet, wolf. The discomfort she is experiencing could be as simple as hunger or the need to urinate. Nourishment will have to wait until she wakes, which should be soon, but I'm certain her bladder is quite distended by now. Have the females take her to the commode. Gently press on the bladder to coax it to release. If you have troub-" the sharp clatter of glass and splintering wood echoed in the earpiece. "I must go, wolf. Call me when she wakes." Click.

* * *

><p>Even breaths and soft snores indicated Megan and Abby were sleeping deeply. Alcide <em>could<em> wake them, but there was still no way a pregnant woman and seventeen year old girl would be able to _safely_ carry Jannalyn to the bathroom. What if Abby strained herself and went into early labor? What if either lost balance and hurt Jannalyn in the process? His mind filled with horrible scenarios of accidents that could happen in the bathroom as well. What if someone slipped?

_Ahh, to hell with it._ Alcide padded down the hall.

On the way, he told himself he could resist the lure of Jannalyn's addictive scent; he just had to keep reminding himself of the pain she must be feeling. Prepared for the worst and hoping for the best, he opened the door.

_Motherfucker! _ he inwardly cursed at the sight before him; a clusterfuck of tangled body parts on the bed.

Abby's body was encased around Jannalyn's; one arm tucked under Jannalyn's neck, the other over her chest, and one leg securely wrapped around one of Jannalyn's legs, with a very pregnant belly resting on Jannalyn's hip and stomach. Megan had an arm draped over Jannalyn's midsection resting on Abby's baby bump, and had a leg draped over Jannalyn's other leg, with a foot that somehow intertwined with Abby's. And poor Jannalyn somehow managed to continue breathing with Megan-Abby vines on every extremity; limbs specifically placed to alert either to any activity of a sexual nature.

Judging from the she-wolf pile up, Abby is a well versed practitioner in the art of cock-blocking, a very 'little sister' trait that had Alcide shaking his head in disbelief. Equally annoyed and amused with Abby's extreme brand of protection, he strategized the best way to unravel the three without waking everyone up.

After successfully untangling the women, Jannalyn's whines quieted in volume but didn't cease. "Shhh, I've got you" he murmured as he rushed her down the hall to the bathroom.

With Jannalyn perched on the toilet, Alcide kneeled in front of her while he stabilized with one hand and pressed on her bladder with the other. Another long whine escaped, and her fingers and toes curled just a fraction of an inch.

"Shit. I'm sorry." Alcide stopped pressing and leaned forward to hug her in apology, petting her hair in an attempt to soothe.

Alcide was lost, _way out_ of his depth. He didn't know what he was doing, or whether he was doing anything right. He'd never been in a situation where he had to help anyone to the bathroom. _Maybe the women should've done this._

"Ludwig said you probably needed to pee. I'm sor-" Hearing a slow stream stopped the words leaving his mouth and he sighed a breath of relief.

When her bladder completely emptied, her body shook with an involuntary shudder of relief. A deep belly laugh sounded off before Alcide could properly stifle it with a free hand. He never thought women shuddered after a good pee and it amused him to no end.

After a few awkward pats with a liberal amount of wadded toilet paper, Alcide flushed the toilet, picked Jannalyn up, and deposited her on the bed he'd been sleeping in. Insanely happy and feeling quite accomplished, he left the room to wash his hands with a goofy grin on his face.

A few breaths later he returned to dress Jannalyn in a t-shirt and boxers, and then he tucked a warm heavy comforter around her. Gently, he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Good night."

After a long inhale that turned into a yawn, Alcide settled in beside Jannalyn but gave plenty of room. Exhaustion from the last few days fell on him like a ton of bricks. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Love it? Hate it? Let me know!**


	6. In Walks a Stranger

**A/N: Thanks to those who recently followed via story alerts and those who continue to follow. Your interest in my story (especially since this IS my first fanfic) has exceeded all my expectations regarding acceptance into this community- to reach 30+ followers is just mind-blowing!**

**And the reviews. WOW! I thank all of you, for taking the time to leave me feedback. Your reviews encourage me to write more and update more often. Ok, ok, on with the show!**

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><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Six: In Walks a Stranger**

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><p>Jannalyn's grey eyes fluttered half-way open.<p>

Blinking slowly, this was the drowsiest she'd ever remembered being after waking up from one of Ludwig's medicinal cocktails. As her vision adjusted, she realized she was staring at Alcide's beard, only an inch or two away. She must have gotten cold and moved towards his warmth in the middle of the night, after she regained movement in her limbs.

Alcide snored softly and his eyes were closed. His heartbeat and breaths remained steady, almost lulling her back to sleep. And his exquisite warmth…

so inviting…

so comfortable…

so…

Jannalyn forced her eyes open and rapidly took in her surroundings, noting specifically, their positions on the bed. Alcide lay flat on his back with his left arm wrapped around her waist. Her arm sprawled over his chest, hugging him like a pillow and…and…_what the... _Her left leg was draped over his hips with her inner thigh resting overtop Alcide's bulging _morning prominence_.

_Oh my God_- her eyes widened and the cloud of drowsiness was gone. She tried to lift her leg, but Alcide's heavy right hand firmly held it in place.

That hand pulled at the crook of her knee, an involuntary reaction in his sleep no doubt; but doing so brought their more intimate parts closer together. As his morning glory slid along the inside of her thigh, her body reacted; it tingled and clenched and warmed instantly.

Automatically, all of her muscles locked, trying to move as little as possible while she figured out what to do.

Alcide's shoulder muscle flexed under her cheek as his other arm pulled her body impossibly closer. His head turned and he pressed his nose to her hair. He inhaled, long and deep, and then a rumbled 'mmm' erupted from his chest.

_Fuck_ she loved that sound… and so did her lady bits.

Yesterday, she was outraged by the thought of being violated by him and now…now her body was hyper-aware and sensitive.

_Great. Fucking fabulous_- she groused at the damp arousal forming between her legs.

Both of Alcide's hands twitched and his fingers curled, gripping both her hip and knee tightly, almost possessively, and she had to wonder…

_No. What an absurd thought. Alcide isn't interested. _Mentally counting, he'd been repulsed enough to curtail the typical instinctual urges at least three times now. The third time was when he took her to the bathroom last night and then brought her to this very bed, to do absolutely nothing but sleep.

_Why would he want me anyway? He's so…so… _Kind. Strong. Warm. Several more endearing adjectives came to mind, including the word _flawless_ as her eyes swept over the expanse of his sculptured and tanned chest.

She only glimpsed one scar on the back of Alcide's left shoulder, when he had his back turned during the laundry room incident, but one scar compared to her hundreds_... Yeah, he's perfect alright- _she sighed inwardly, _too perfect for me_.

Under different circumstances, Jannalyn's Beast would have been on a mass killing spree by now, but Alcide hadn't done anything wrong and neither had the women. He hadn't violated her body nor did he do any scheming to keep her in the territory against her will.

Usually, her name alone prompted heavy questioning, if not, full blown CIA styled interrogations. _Why are you here? Who are you working for? Who sent you?_- were the most common questions. If wolves didn't detain her, ridiculous conditions were given to stay within those territories; check-ins, communication restrictions, sometimes including surveillance of all her activities.

Often, favors were asked; usually a revenge killing, an assassination of a problematic supe, or help with takeovers, all of which, Jannalyn refused to do. And her refusals meant she couldn't leave with secret knowledge of targets, so she often had to fight her way out of those territories, leaving a trail of bodies in her wake…and all that seemed to do was confirm the false rumors.

In those instances, Jannalyn considered herself lucky to have her Beast; and when she referred to the Beast, she didn't mean the wolf.

There have always been periods in Jannalyn's life, when part of Jannalyn shut down, as _something else_ woke up. That _something else_ exuded malice and pure rage. It lingered tangibly, a dark and malevolent heaviness in the back of her mind. It was a silent observer, but once unleashed, it was an instrument of death and destruction.

Ludwig said it was an 'alternate personality' born of too many traumas in Jannalyn's earlier years. The survival instinct manifested into a separate persona, and it settled in- a defense mechanism to help Jannalyn cope, during the long years she spent as a fighter in the vampire run Pits south of the border. Those years of enslavement in the Pits were a messy blur to Jannalyn and most of what she _could_ remember of those times, she wanted to forget.

Most times, there was partial awareness when Jannalyn's 'alter' took over, but on occasion, when a serious injury was sustained, the Beast would throw Jannalyn in a dark room in her head; where her senses were completely cut off to block Jannalyn from whatever was going on in the external world.

Jannalyn compared her life with this affliction to being in a car; sometimes she drove, sometimes she was the passenger, and sometimes she was in the trunk- blind, deaf, and unfeeling until the Beast was ready to let her out.

Minutes were lost in that quiet darkness, sometimes hours, on a couple of occasions, she lost days. She'd lost count of the times she _became aware_ to body parts or puddles of vamp goo, all the while adding to the vast collection of scars.

Speaking of her Beast, that bitch has been acting funny since their arrival.

Alcide accidentally awakened it in the laundry room; but it was perplexed when a strange Packmaster didn't advance knowing she killed in his territory, and then he turned his back and promptly gave access to the exit. The Beast was even more confused when he made coffee- for a Packmaster preparing caffeinated sustenance for a stranger who killed in his territory was too much for it to process. It took several moments but the Beast eventually relinquished the driver's seat without killing first.

The Beast was also keenly aware when the pack meeting took place. All the voices were muffled, but it recognized Alcide's voice from the others. It also recognized another sound, a sound it knew all too well; the unmistakable and satisfying snap of breaking bone. Alcide's growled out words followed, and the Beast paid close attention… wondering if Alcide inflicted damage or was on the receiving end. Anxiously, the Beast clawed at Jannalyn, roaring in protest at being confined to the bed. It wanted to be outside in the thick of things, desperate to see the fight.

When Alcide spoke normally again, the Beast settled, content with just listening to the low commanding rumbles of his voice. Obviously, it liked his voice, a lot, and it normally didn't care for anyone's voice except Q's.

The Beast was also fascinated with Abby's stomach as it pressed into Jannalyn's side last night and it was _never_ absorbed with such things. The experience was a _first_ for both Jannalyn and her Beast. Normally, she wasn't allowed anywhere near pregnant females.

All the tiny movements, every flutter and roll had the Beast in a trance, but eventually, when Abby propped her belly on top of Jannalyn's, the acrobatic activities of the unborn pup became annoying. The Beast swore it was purposely kicking her right in the bladder, which was full and ready to burst at the time. Her 'alter' was annoyed beyond reason, but was not exuding the murderous maliciousness it ordinarily does when the Beast is uncomfortable. Jannalyn quickly wrote it off to the Beast _knowing_ it was a baby, therefore, not a real threat.

Over the last five years, it took less effort to rein back the monster. Jannalyn followed a regiment of rigorous exercise and self-calming techniques she'd read about in the reading material Ludwig provided on the human psyche. She avoided stressful situations which would set it free- as much as she could anyway- and Jannalyn was beginning to think she'd finally broken _it _somehow and hoped _it_ was finally tame.

Jannalyn's mind snapped back to the present predicament. Alcide stilled once more and looked more peaceful than ever. But did Jannalyn want Alcide to wake up and see their intimate positioning?

Tempting, but no. Absolutely not.

If Alcide roused and recoiled from her, it would destroy what was left of Jannalyn's self-esteem and she certainly didn't need any more hits to it from the opposite sex.

Jannalyn thought she'd grown accustomed to the stares, the whispers, the nervousness, and the occasion looks of disgust…but lately, those reactions have been cutting deeper than usual. After a while, being ostracized and tested at every opportunity, can take its toll on a person. A woman, a lonely she-wolf without a pack, can only take so much.

Millimeter by millimeter she moved away, until she was free of his heavy possessive arms. At the edge of the bed, she sat upright, only making the dull throb in her head increase in severity. She paused to massage her temples and waited for it to die down. It felt good to finally apply pressure to the aches, so she began to massage her entire head and welcomed the relief.

_What the fuck?_ she thought, as a finger grazed a small bald spot with one, two, three, _four_ fucking staples? There was also a taut, tugging sensation on her bent elbow that had her searching. _Stitches, too. Burns_- _Megan spoke of burns_. Jannalyn pulled up her shirt to inspect the skin. Her areolas were peeling a bit and so were her hip bones. There wasn't any tenderness but her skin itched with the same heat and severity of poison ivy.

_What the hell happened?_

A zing of pain radiated from the back of her skull to the front and it felt like her brains were being scrambled. She was tempted to crawl back under the covers, back into Alcide's warmth for a little comfort, but it wasn't the most appropriate idea, not while he had _issues_ below the waistband of his pajama pants.

Unbeknownst to Jannalyn, Alcide's arms blindly searched for her and when they came up short, he opened his eyes in panic to search the room. He didn't have to look far. He discovered Jannalyn at the edge of the bed; taking deep calming breaths, rocking back and forth with her head in her hands.

"Jannalyn?" he whispered, as softly as possible. Ludwig made it abundantly clear that startling Jannalyn was bad news and with a concussion, her senses were temporarily heightened.

"Call Amy," she rasped out, "I mean Ludwig. Please."

_Amy? That's the doctor's first name? Huh._ Alcide was curious as to how Jannalyn knew Ludwig was called, but decided she probably smelled the doctor's fading scent. He reached for his cellphone, scrolled, and hit send. Ludwig answered on the first ring again. "She's awake." This time, Alcide ended the call with a hang up. There was nothing else to say.

He inched closer and slowly placed his palm on her back. She didn't shrink away from his touch, but kept rocking like she didn't feel his hand at all. "Hey, maybe you should lie back down."

"O-okay" she panted out, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. She could tolerate most pains but head injuries were her worst enemy. She crawled on top of the mattress until she reached the pillow and practically dove into it head first. "Who hit me with a sledgehammer?" she groaned into the pillow, "Cause I'll kill a son of a bitch."

Alcide snickered, moving to rub her back. "No need to kill anyone." She turned her head to look at him.

"Why? Did you kill him for me?" she asked seriously but Alcide thought she was joking. Another belly laugh escaped, and he couldn't remember the last time he laughed so often… he laughed until Jannalyn's eyes twitched from the volume. Her discomfort shut that shit up with a quickness. "I don't understand. Did someone attack me or not?"

"You slipped in the kitchen, busted your head on the floor and spilled coffee all over yourself."

She wore an adorable befuddled expression and squinted, trying to remember. "That's impossible. I'm not clumsy."

"It's the floor's fault. I've slipped and hurt myself four times prior, so I think it's time to bust it up and scrape it away… it's due for new floor boards anyway...put some coarser tile down…something more slip resistant." Alcide realized he was babbling in construction lingo, something he did when he was nervous.

And he was nervous alright, his stomach was in knots.

All Alcide could think about was getting close enough to find a pulse point and burying his nose in it, just to inhale her in again. Jannalyn wasn't supposed to smell good any more, but she smelled just as good as she did yesterday. He was positive her blood was gone from his system, so why? _What the hell is wrong with me?_ He chalked it up as an aftereffect that would soon fade, but he planned to talk to Melinda again, soon, if this symptom didn't clear up.

With a loud pop, Ludwig appeared at the foot of the bed.

"Jan." Ludwig greeted in Jannalyn's direction and then turned her small body slightly to nod at Alcide. "Wolf." Though, her appraising eyes never left Jannalyn, not for one second.

"I'm under control." Jannalyn offered. "I swear it."

Ludwig smiled, a mouthful of triangular teeth gleaming in the morning sunlight already filling the room. "Let me check those staples." Ludwig quickly moved to her side and parted her hair. "These are good to come out. You'll control yourself while I removed them? Hmm?" Jannalyn nodded into the pillow. "You'll feel something cold but it should provide some respite from the pain."

From the black tote Ludwig always carried, she retrieved a small glass jar with a thick petroleum substance in it. She noticed Alcide eying the jar suspiciously, tilting his head to read the label.

"Don't worry, wolf. This is made from spilanthes acmella, a plant with numbing agents." A small glob of the substance was smeared onto the wound by Ludwig's tiny gloved finger. "Concentrated, of course. Supernatural grade."

"Uhhh," it was a low moan of relief as the salve took effect. Jannalyn sunk further into the bed, her entire body gradually going limp.

Ludwig pulled at some hairs near the head wound. "Can you feel this?"

"Feel what?" Jannalyn drawled slowly. Her mouth felt funny and her tongue felt swollen so she shut her trap to keep from sounding foolish, or high out of her mind.

"Hehehe. Good enough." Ludwig was ecstatic at finding something that worked. Four rapid snips later, she began pulling out the staples with forceps. "Almost done. Do you think you can roll over unassisted?"

"Ummm" Jannalyn's body felt like gelatin, a big pile of goo. "Nope" the word was said with an exaggerated pop of the 'p'.

"Help me roll her over, wolf."

Alcide rolled his eyes as he complied. "I have a name, you know, and it's Alcide, not _wolf_."

"I know your name" Ludwig haughtily replied, "and I'll call you what I please." She had no concern for whether she offended his lupine sensitivities. She would never address the wolf by his first name, it was too personal. It expressed a level of closeness that didn't exist between them.

Focused on the task, she pulled up the shirt to inspect Jannalyn's skin. Alcide quickly turned his back.

"I've got some phone calls to make." It wasn't a lie. Alcide excused himself from the room to call his foreman at the construction site and to give Jannalyn some privacy. Not that he hadn't seen it all before, but he was still carrying around some serious morning wood that needed deflating.

He found a yawning Abby in the hall, and when her eyes landed on Alcide, she came straight at him. "What's going on?" she whisper yelled. "Tell me you didn't!"

"I didn't." _AND issues down below are gone._ _Yep, definitely my sister_- Alcide wryly thought, noting Abby's extreme bedhead hairstyle and disheveled appearance.

"He didn't and we hear you out there." Ludwig called out from behind the door. "Your attempt at being quiet is a laughable failure." Abby looked at the closed door then turned her eyes to Alcide.

"Who's that?"

"Supernatural doctor." Alcide stood in front of the door, blocking it with his large body.

"No shit?" Abby asked, a little too excitedly.

"No shit." Alcide replied, crossing his arms to let Abby know she wasn't allowed in.

"No shit." Ludwig called out, sarcasm and annoyance coloring her voice. She couldn't help herself. _Stupid wolves whisper-yelling in the hall like a bunch of mentally challenged animals_-she thought.

"Wow, you went all out for her, didn't you? Can I meet her now?" Abby asked eagerly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"What? No way. She's in no condition to-"

Abby ducked down and around Alcide, simultaneously turning the knob and sliding into the room, but stopped abruptly at the doorway.

_She moves too frickin' fast for a pregnant chick_- Alcide thought.

"Whoa. What…what are you?" Abby sniffed in the doctor's direction, just as Ludwig propped a pillow under Jannalyn's head. Ludwig ignored the question but continued on with business.

"Jan will need more rest. I have specifications for the primary caretaker, a specific regiment and prescription over the next two days." Ludwig looked back and forth between Alcide and Abby several times. "Well? Who's playing nurse?"

"Neider of dem." Jannalyn mumbled, immediately frowning at how strange she sounded. "I wan Maygan. Ooooh! Sdupid dongue!"

"Shh, hush now, little girl. We'll get you Megan." Ludwig practically cooed at Jannalyn, while softly patting on her leg. Ludwig could not deny her. The she-wolf was never picky, nor did she ever ask for anything, let alone, a person… The doctor would see that her request was met. Ludwig turned her softened gaze from Jannalyn, her features slowly hardening to address the Packmaster. "This Megan, bring her to me."

* * *

><p>Luna was fuming.<p>

She'd spent half the morning cleaning up the pig-sty of a trailer Sam likes to call a home, when she discovered a shirt; a shirt that smelled distinctly of the trashy blonde waitress that blinks her eyes too God damn much. SookiefuckingStackhouse.

Hugging the employees and regular patrons of Merlotte's was a daily occurrence, but for reasons Luna didn't understand, Sam hugging Sookie flared an irrational explosion of jealousy. After another deep whiff, she realized it was something about the way Sookie smelled…but couldn't put her finger on it, couldn't quite figure it out.

_What kind of name is Sookie anyway? Sounds like calling pigs back to the farm. _

She seethed internally, snatching articles of clothing from the floor as if those pieces of fabric had wronged her.

Luna's first instinct was _not_ to wash that particular shirt with the rest of the laundry, like all the other clothes that smelled of other people, but to seek out all clothing laced with Sookie's scent and shred that shit to oblivion. So far, only one shirt smelled of _her_- lucky for Sam or he'd need a whole new wardrobe.

Luna gripped the shirt and began to pull. The ripping sound of the green Bon Temps High t-shirt was extremely pleasant to the ears and Luna didn't stop ripping until the t-shirt was a heap of scraps. After she was done, she sat perplexed on the carpet, staring at the strips. Then realization hit. She just shredded a shirt, like a dog that was left home alone for _far_ too long.

What was it about this Sookie Stackhouse chick that had Sam and Alcide and all these vamps pining over her?

_Well, it's not her looks, that's for sure. Is her pussy lined in gold or something? Or is she just that good on her knees?_

It didn't help matters that Maxine Fortenberry pulled her to the side one day, warning her to 'keep your eyes on that saddle tramp whore.' Luna had heard rumors prior to Maxine's super secretive 'looking out for Sammy' conversation, but after that particularly awkward exchange, she kept hearing more and more about Sookie's promiscuity. From what she'd heard in whispers from the regulars of Merlotte's, Sookie had a felonious amount of supernatural dick notches on her bedpost and it infuriated Luna that Sam could be on that list.

Maybe that's what bothered Luna… the fact that she didn't know how far Sam and Sookie had gone physically? Maybe she should ask? No. With that line of questioning, she'd sound insecure and maybe she really didn't want to know the answer.

_You are the only brunette I've ever dated_- her insecure mind reminded Luna. That's what Sam told her when he was shitfaced drunk at the last shifter get-together with Emory and Suzanne.

Did Sam seriously have a thing for blondes?

Well, too fucking bad if he did. Luna doesn't _do_ blonde, she doesn't even _do_ highlights. And they'd better be old, grey, and happily mated before she'd EVER consider wearing a blonde wig for a little kink. Shit, if he knew what was good for him, he'd better NEVER ask.

She tried to cast out these negative thoughts from her mind, but couldn't; so she kept busy with cleaning, the whole time gnashing her teeth.

Sam woke up from an afternoon nap. He was trying to recharge his batteries for the nightshift and closing, but still felt a little tired. After looking around at his surroundings, he was thoroughly impressed. Luna dusted, vacuumed, and the clutter had been organized. Sam felt Luna was clearly going out of her way to take care of him and he was beaming, utterly fucking happy for once.

Heading straight for the coffee machine, he was delighted to find Luna bent over the counter, scrubbing the backsplash wall near the sink. He leaned against the opposite wall to watch his mate for a moment; to watch the delicious wiggle of her rear as she scrubbed.

"I like what you've done with the place." Her annoyed huff spoke volumes about her mood. "You okay, cher?" Sam stepped forward and snaked his arms around her waist. She stiffened like a board.

"Get off of me, Sam."

Sam grabbed her hip and turned her around to face him. He wanted her to see how much those words hurt. Naturally, feelings of inadequacy took root and he began to think that maybe Luna regretted exchanging the words that tied them together.

"Talk to me. Please?" Sam stared deep in her eyes, trying to convey how much he really wanted this to work, but Luna rolled her eyes at him and went back to washing the walls. "Damn it, Luna! What the hell did I do now?" Sam half whined half yelled, smashing his fist into the counter in frustration. It seemed as if Sam couldn't do ANYTHING right lately. Luna has been nothing short of bat-shit crazy since the night at Alcide's and her moods were working his very last fucking nerve.

"Like you don't fucking know…" she seethed in a low voice with narrowed dark eyes, and then she promptly marched out of his trailer without another word.

Luna stomped to her car, got in, and slammed the door. She was ready to go home, but she needed to calm down before she got on the road.

When she saw Sookie's yellow Gremlin parked in the employee section of Merlotte's parking lot, a decision was made. Why guess about Sam's past when she could just ask? Luna decided, _to hell with questions_… Sam is her mate, time to start acting like it.

Luna walked in, contemptuously passed a stuttering Arlene at the door, and went straight up to Sookie who was busy filling ketchup bottles near the kitchen pick up counter. Roughly tapping her on the shoulder, Luna waited for her to turn around. As soon as their eyes met, Sookie blinked a few times and fixed a smile on her face. And it wasn't returned.

"Hey! Luna, right?" Sookie asked with a tilt of her head, her golden ponytail hanging over her shoulder. "What can I do for you?"

"What you can do for me is stay away from Sam." It wasn't a request and there was no other way to say it. Luna knew it sounded rude, but did she care? Nope, not one fucking iota.

"Excuse me?" Sookie couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I can't stay away from Sam, he's my boss."

"See, that's where we won't agree. He may be your boss, but you _will_ keep the fuck away from him. There is absolutely no reason for your scent to _ever_ be on him. He is mine, do you understand me?"

Sookie used the opportunity to read Luna's mind, but only received snarled fuzzy images. Luna's mind was exactly like Sam's, the same mental signature. Another mental signature drew Sookie's attention, one that was weak and tiny. This had only happened once before when Arlene was pregnant and Sookie knew what it meant, almost immediately.

"I understand. Luna, I swear, Sam and I are just friends. Never was more than that. Ever."

Luna searched Sookie's brown eyes for any deceit, but couldn't find any- not a twitch, not the urge to look away…just plain 'ole open honesty and understanding. With furrowed brows, Luna began to second guess the righteous indignation she had in disliking Sookie. Maybe she wasn't the supe dick trollop everyone said she was…

When had she become so insecure? Over a scent on Sam's shirt? In a pile of laundry he probably hadn't washed in months? Luna's confusion was visibly written on her face, and Sookie heard Luna's thoughts loud and clear that time.

"Look, Luna. I don't want problems with you and I don't wanna cause problems between you and Sam either, so I'll stay away from him. As far away as you want, okay?" Sookie offered but it only made Luna feel worse.

Isn't that what she wanted? For Sookie to stay away from Sam? The answer is a resounding yes, so why did it make her feel so…terrible?

"Luna!" Sam called out, drawing Luna from her inner monologue. He witnessed the whole confrontation and was now livid. "Now you're badgering my employees? What the _fuck_ is your problem, Luna?" All Luna could do was hang her head, because she'd been caught, because she didn't understand why she was feeling this way, because she fucked up. Big time.

"Sam! We were just clearing the air!" Sookie defended, but Sam wasn't done with his rant.

"Stay out of this, Sook!" he gave her a heated glare and then he turned to Luna with a look of utter disgust. "Luna, go home. I don't need this shit right now, and I certainly, don't need you starting shit at my place of business. I'm beginning to think _we_ were a mistake!"

"Sam!" Sookie chastised. Oh, this whole day was going to shit. Sam hardly lost his temper in public, but when he did, _oh boy_ is it a blowout.

A heart wrenching cry tore out of Luna, despite clasping her hand over her mouth. She ran out of Merlotte's and peeled away in her car, her tires spraying gravel as she fled.

Sam stormed off in the other direction, cussed the whole way to his office and slammed the door. All of Merlotte's quieted when some wall decor crashed to the floor.

"I'll go get a broom and dustpan." Arlene announced, scurrying off to the janitor's closet.

"See, I told ya. Er'thang you touch falls to shit- but you bitch, you the hookah that's always okay." Lafayette sneered from the kitchen while dramatically pointing a wooden spatula at Sookie.

As witness to the whole debacle, he wanted to step in, but he's learned stepping into _any_ of Sookie's situations, always escalates into someone getting hurt, or worse, killed.

"Oh, now you wanna speak to me? Shut up, Lafayette! This was _not_ my fault." Sookie declared over the counter, rather sure of herself.

Lafayette tilted his head in dramatic disbelief and sauntered closer, all attitude and feminine grace.

"According to you, nothin' eva is... What you mean, not yo fault? You surround yo'self in the supernatural, but don't do shit to _know _yo shit. You don't learn they ways or follow they rules, 'cause you think yo mufuckin' ass is exempt." Lafayette twirled his fingers in a circle, inches from her face. "Sounds to me like she smelled _you_ on _her_ man," he pursed his lips and raised a perfectly waxed eyebrow, "now bitch, that's common sense, supernatural or not."

Sookie stood at the counter, sputtering and gaping like a fish as Lafayette went back to work. As much as she wanted to be angry with Lafayette for the callousness of his words, Lafayette told it like he saw it and never held back. For the first time in a long time, Sookie felt like she'd been slapped awake, like how they do in movies with a person who is unconscious. She never thought her actions could be perceived the way Lafayette described, but she was seeing herself in a new light and felt like an incorrigible child called out on her own bullshit.

_Christ on a cracker_. Lafayette is right. She never bothered to learn two-natured ways or rules, even though she works for a shifter and has befriended a werewolf. She thought those rules didn't apply because she isn't a supe of the two-natured variety…And now that Sookie was really thinking about it, Luna was one hair shy of being another Debbie… the extreme jealousy and irrationality…was scent really that important?

After the last ketchup bottle was filled and wiped down, Sookie filled her tray to put them back on the tables. She reflected on her behavior the last few years, while she and Arlene did prep-work for the upcoming dinner crowd.

Holly arrived for her first shift as barkeep. "Hey Sook, Arlene." She greeted, a little nervous about bartending for the first time in over ten years. Behind her, a hulking figure walked in.

He couldn't be missed.

This bald headed man was as tall as Alcide but thicker in musculature, something Sookie couldn't believe. Alcide was the biggest man she'd ever met in physical stature, but this man made Alcide look like a puppy in comparison.

He stood at the doorway dressed in jeans and a white muscle shirt, panning his head to look around, and then he did something she'd only seen Sam and Alcide do; he took a long inhale, his nose twitching a little.

Sookie walked towards the stranger with a smile fixed on her face. She had to crane her neck to look up at him. "Welcome to Merlotte's. Would you like a table or would you prefer to sit at the bar?" He tilted his head down to look at her but said nothing. If Sookie weren't already looking for it, she would've missed the fact that he sniffed in her direction. He didn't answer; he only walked to the bar and grabbed a seat. "Alrighty, then." Sookie griped at his silent rudeness.

She turned on a heel and promptly went back to her section to check on some customers. They didn't need anything so she fixed herself an iced tea and sipped it near the kitchen pick-up area.

"Hi, I'm Holly. What can I get for ya?" Sookie knew Holly was speaking to the stranger, the only one sitting at the bar. _Good luck with getting that one to speak_- she bristled.

"A large pilsner of something domestic… doesn't matter, really, whatever is easiest for you" he replied politely in a deep timbre.

Sookie almost spit out her drink. So now Sookie wasn't good enough to speak to? She just went through a long silent treatment from Lafayette, newly vamped Tara wasn't speaking to her either, Bill and Eric have been missing, and she was tired being ignored.

She didn't think, she just marched up with her hands on her hips, to find out what his problem was. "Umm, excuse me." He hadn't taken off his sunglasses yet, but he turned his head to acknowledge Sookie. Wordlessly, of course. "Do you know me or somethin'? Because I get the distinct feelin' you don't like me."

He huffed, turned his head to watch Holly as she filled the glass, and ignored Sookie for a few more seconds. Holly placed it in front of the man and he nodded. "This will be all, Holly. What do I owe you?"

"Three bucks." Holly looked from the man to Sookie and back again, wondering what the hell was going on.

Meanwhile, he drank the large pilsner down, gulping it like water. He wiped at his mouth with a bar napkin then he reached into his pocket, pulled a five out and laid it on the bar. "Thank you, Holly." Out of the barstool he stood, then strolled out without a word, leaving Sookie sputtering like a fool.

"Now what the fuck was that, Sookie?" Holly was furious. That man was her first 'bar' customer, someone she could practice on before the night crowd arrived, and Sookie ran him off.

"I don't know." Sookie whispered, feeling a little confused by the man's behavior.

"Well, do me a favor. Stay away from my area from now on." Holly warned while wiping up the area the man just left. _Fuckin' swear to Goddess…she gets stupid when nice looking men ignore her...wouldn't have this problem if one of her vamps were around._ Holly thought, and Sookie overheard.

Of course Holly was right too, in a way, just as Lafayette was right earlier. Sookie would've blown off all of the day's troubles if she had someone wanting her time, and it seemed nobody wanted it anymore.

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><p><strong>AN: How is my grammar and spelling so far? Like Alcide, I need a Beta! (laughs at her own joke) Until next time!**


	7. Indifferent Dispositions

**A/N: To those who recently followed via story alerts and those who continue to follow; knowing I have an audience waiting for updates is very gratifying as a writer. Thank you, all of you.**

**To those who reviewed: I thank all of you, for taking time out of your day to leave me feedback. For me, it is the truest form of validation- whether it is a positive review or critique.**

**I'm glad most of you agree with my version of Alcide. I do try my best to keep everyone in character as much as possible. Also, this story will remain 'two-natured-centric' throughout, only touching on the other canon characters when interaction calls for it.**

**School is getting ready to begin again and life is really hectic, but I will try to get these chapters out sooner. Thanks for waiting!**

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><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Seven: Indifferent Dispositions**

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><p>Alcide left, claiming some emergency.<p>

Abby left, to meet up with her mother to discuss some family matters.

And Ludwig had long disappeared after exchanging information with Megan.

Jannalyn's treatment didn't need to be written down on the pad of paper Megan erroneously brought from Alcide's desk downstairs. It was all downloaded straight to her brain… with a single, mind numbing, electrocuting touch.

When Ludwig was done, Megan now knew more about two-natured anatomy and physiology than her mother and pack aunts ever dared to teach her. The information was vast; centuries of textbook styled medical data, treatments, and remedies.

For over two hours now, Megan kept her mouth shut as she followed Ludwig's 'regiment' with accurate precision. Megan knew everything she needed to know about the strange bottles, the proper dosages, and when to administer them.

Jannalyn required showers twice a day and on the way to the first, she almost face planted in the hall, two steps from the door. So Megan showered with Jannalyn, just in case she experienced another dizzy spell. After drying off, Megan removed the stitches from Jannalyn's elbow, applied ointments to the peeling skin, and dressed her patient in one of Abby's nightgowns designated for the Goodwill. Silently, she combed Jannalyn's hair then helped her back into bed.

But she couldn't hold it in any longer.

"A goblin? She's a frickin' goblin?!" Megan screeched, causing Jannalyn to grimace from the volume.

One chapter of information stood out from the plethora of text and repeated on a continuous loop- _The Treatment of Bites _- and Ludwig's rows of triangular teeth, height, and deep olive complexion were telling.

Megan never knew Goblins existed, never mind, the fact that Daemon, Faeries, and Elves existed too; along with a myriad of _'others'; _rare and highly dangerous beings. She'd heard the saying '_ignorance is bliss'_ at least a dozen times and now she just wanted to be oblivious again.

Jannalyn knew the emotional mini-melt down was coming. Everyone processed jarring events at their own speed; Megan happened to be a little slower than others or was much more disciplined than Jannalyn gave her credit for.

"Technically, she's a Faerie/Goblin hybrid, but she leans more towards the Goblin side of her genes, as do her children." Jannalyn announced indifferently. She didn't care if Ludwig was purple and came from outer space, that woman was good to her; one of the very few who truly cares about her well-being.

Megan noticed how Jannalyn spoke in a permanent soft rasp and carried no southern accent; how she enunciated every consonant fluidly, like she'd practiced…Somehow, she knew Jannalyn had undergone speech therapy in the past, and one look at the older she-wolf's throat showed why. There was extensive damage from bites and Megan's mind concluded the vocal chords were once severed.

And this conclusion only sent Megan spiraling downwards; her brain absorbed medical information from Jannalyn, all on its own, and she couldn't make it stop.

"Seriously, though! Did she have to tazer me? I almost urinat- pissed myself!" Megan wrung her hands as she paced, trying to decide if she should be angry at being zapped or scared of the new vocabulary and extensive knowledge swimming around in her head.

"You _should_ be honored. Her kind, rarely share what they know." Jannalyn spoke calmly and watched the young female carefully. Megan's heart galloped in her chest and her breaths were strained. She hoped the younger wolf wouldn't faint or hyperventilate.

"Honored? Are you kiddin' me?! Why me? I don't get it! I'm a kid- a nobody in the scheme a' things!"

"Are you about done?!" Jannalyn growled out, annoyed with Megan's ungrateful attitude and vocal self-depreciating rant. Megan's pacing halted mid-step, suddenly alert to her own behavior around a more dominant she-wolf. Jannalyn might be incapacitated now, but she wouldn't always be, and that was plenty reason for Megan to shut her mouth. "Sit, Megan." Jannalyn softly patted the mattress.

Megan was undecided, unsure of which response to trust, because Jannalyn looked relatively calm, despite the scary growl a few seconds ago.

"Sit, Megan" Jannalyn said a little more force.

"Okay," Megan whispered timidly as she sat on the bed.

"Take a few deep breaths with me. Get comfortable." Jannalyn waited until Megan was situated on the bed, until both were leaning back on the headboard; shoulder to shoulder, instead of face-to-face, something an old vampire taught Jannalyn about 'confrontational positioning.'

"First, I'll address the fuckery that just came out of your mouth. As one of the _very_ few females in a _very_ large pack, you cannot _afford_ to be on the low end of the pecking order. So, stop devaluing yourself." Jannalyn paused to allow those words to sink in. "By no means, are you some random 'kid' or a 'nobody'. Ludwig normally writes down doctor's orders, so obviously, something _special_ in you, stood out to an ancient Goblin. From what I've been told, she hasn't shared _anything_ in that way, in over two hundred years."

"But," Megan opened her mouth to say something, but Jannalyn talked over her.

"Second, you need to calm down and stop complaining. One day, you'll save someone with what Ludwig gave you. Now… if you're done with losing your motherfucking mind, I'm tired… and I'm cold."

Megan couldn't help the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Jannalyn, a tough as nails she-wolf, handed Megan her own ass, without adding to her fears by yelling. An errant thought entered her head. _She probably can't yell- _Megan thought while eyeing her neck again. She also knew Jannalyn's admission of being cold was the cue to resume duties.

Jannalyn seemed to experience more dizziness and pain when her temperature crashed, a particularly worrisome piece of information. Megan placed a palm on Jannalyn's forehead then to her neck to gauge the temperature. _Too low_- Megan mentally tsked, as she climbed under the covers.

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><p>Albert Monroe sat on a bale of hay, growling at Cody after dismissing the rest of the adolescents. That boy broke formation twice and then went off on his own to explore. By the time Bert found him, he had already crossed over the thirty feet of neutral zone and stepped four feet into another pack's territory.<p>

Old man Bert tore into him twice. The first time, Bert bit down a little too hard to pull Cody back across the boundary line; and once they were both on the correct side, the second time was a vicious bite and shake for messing up on his watch.

After witnessing how the old man laid down the law, the rest of the boys didn't step one paw out of line for the rest of the run. The last stretch was extended to two hours, just so a limping Cody could keep up, and everyone was exhausted by the time they returned to the barn, everyone but Bert.

The sound of slinging soil could be heard as Alcide pulled onto the dirt road leading to the barn. Bert met Alcide at the barn door to speak to him outside. This news needed to be broken lightly, an impossible feat as far as Bert was concerned. How do you tell the new Packmaster that an adolescent committed an act of war?

"He did WHAT?!" Alcide roared. With a wood splintering kick, the barn door swung open and there stood the pissed off Packmaster with eyes blazing brighter than the morning sun. "I swear to God boy, you must like getting your ass kicked!" Alcide closed the distance and snatched Cody up by the neck, his legs dangling a foot from the ground.

"What the _fuck_ were you thinkin'?!" he yelled. Alcide smelled fresh blood and knew Bert wounded the younger wolf, so he threw Cody into a hay pile to take up pacing. There was a fine line between punishment and abuse, and Alcide made sure he didn't cross it; even though he really, really wanted to. "You _do_ realize that when they discover your scent, we'll have to face off with a pack?"

"The Long Tooth and Blood Claws have been pretty respectful of the lines for the last thirty years. We may be able to just explain how green and undereducated our young ones are, when they come a howlin'. It was my run. I'll take responsibility, if they want blood." That statement coming from the old wolf made Alcide whip his head around.

"No way. When the Blood Claws call, I'll meet with 'em. Talk it out, if I can. This ain't on you, Bert. I should've separated the young ones for their first few runs." Alcide turned his attention back to the youngster. "Now explain to me, what the fuck were you thinkin'?"

"I don't know!" Cody's frustration finally reached an all-time high. "I smelled big cat, but it didn't smell like the wet mustiness of the panthers from Hotshot. I followed it and didn't realize I crossed over until Old Man Berty had his teeth sunk in my shoulder. Fuck… I'm sorry." Cody made eye contact with Alcide and with Bert, customary when apologizing like a true he-wolf. "I'm really sorry. I'll…fuck! What do I do to fix this?" Cody desperately asked with bloodshot eyes.

As soon as Julien Delacroix heard about this blunder, Cody could kiss any thoughts of dating Megan goodbye. He kept the other adolescents away with threats of bodily harm for almost a year now, patiently waiting until she turned eighteen to ask Julien for permission to court her properly…but now, there'd be no way Julien would approve.

To make matters worse, this mistake of epic proportions would follow him around for the rest of his days if war started behind it. He would be blamed for any deaths arising from this error and that alone, was grounds for banishment.

Following one measly scent may have cost him his pack and a chance at being with the girl he loves. He was fucked. Royally fucked.

"Shit." Alcide felt his anger dissipating at the torment written on Cody's face. Alcide ran a hand through his dark locks and let out a long sigh. "We'll figure it out. Let me call Delacroix, let him know what's going on." Cody muttered a 'shit' as Alcide scrolled through his cellphone contacts to look for the number Melinda inputted before leaving last night. "I hope you learned something from this, Cody."

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><p>Alcide, Julien, and Bert sat around the table in the old farmhouse kitchen with yellow walls, while Cody leaned against the kitchen counter, listening carefully to the conversation among his elders.<p>

Their action plan seemed solid.

Julien and Alcide would alternate leading the nightly runs. Julien would schedule a total of seven wolves on patrol to keep several sets of eyes and ears out for when the Master of Blood Claws sounded off. Upon hearing the call, Alcide and the rest of the pack would meet in full force at the line, which meant everyone would be on high alert until Alcide could diffuse the situation. If war was inevitable, one of the two leaders would already be there with a few extras until reinforcements arrived.

The only problem were the women.

All were unanimous in their opinions. None wanted any of the women at the front lines. There were so few females in their pack now, due to Marcus chasing them away with his advances, the pack couldn't afford to lose any.

"Well, Alcide, you know how we feel, but the choice is yours." Julien hated the words as soon as they left his mouth. Losing Melinda would end him. He would continue to breathe for the kids they raised together, Kenneth and Megan, but living, actually _living_ wasn't possible without her.

"We can't tell them to stay home. They wouldn't have it. There'd be hell to pay if we pull that sexist shit on 'em now. Do any know how to fight?" The dismal horror on the men's faces told Alcide the answer. "Maybe I should ask Jannalyn to help us out, give 'em some tips." Alcide pondered out loud.

"Mel and Meg said the lone female was covered in scars. That you initiated but didn't…" Julien tilted his head at seeing how tense Alcide had become. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. It's just…"Alcide wanted Cody out of the room but figured to hell with it. "I need advice…about her. She's awake but she still smells _so good_, so good I can't think straight." Alcide let out a long breath at finally saying it out loud and getting it off of his chest. He could speak freely around men, so he did.

"I still wanna fuck the daylights out of her whenever I get close enough. Against every fuckin' wall if I could. But I know it's wrong. I've been fightin' it for days and I don't know how much more I can take."

"Wait a damn minute." Bert exclaimed. "Are you tellin' us you initiated healin' and walked away?" Alcide gave a miniscule nod that no one missed. "And she's awake and you still want her?" Another small nod. "When you ingested her blood, were you shifted or switched?"

"Shifted."

Bert put his hand over his mouth while he glared at the table for a hard minute. "Lemme go get our histories." His chair slid back and the old man disappeared out of the room.

"I don't get it. What's the big deal?" Cody asked.

"First of all Cody, males shouldn't deal with wounds unless a mate's life is on the line. It can make a male deathly ill, make him vomit for days." Julien answered.

"I knew that. What's all this 'you still want her' business? That's the part I don't get."

"Male bodies can't differentiate a wound from estrus. You _do_ know what estrus is, right?" Alcide teased with a smirk, and Cody shut right on up. This was not a topic he would _ever_ discuss in front of Megan's father. Fuck-to-the-no, he would not.

"While Berty's searching, I have some good news. Our son Kenneth, he's moving back into the area, now that Marcus is gone."

Alcide wondered about the Delacroix family dynamics. Julien is of creole descent, Melinda was the typical southern blonde, and Megan's strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, and golden tan skin, wasn't inherited from Julien. But Alcide felt it was too rude to ask, so he didn't.

"That's good. I'll be happy to welcome him in, if he wants. Why'd he leave in the first place?"

"Marcus always had some snide comments that made him feel…out of place. Kenneth's biological mother was darker than me and he inherited her skin tone."

Bigotry was huge in the south among humans, still is in some parts. The thing is, among wolves, skin color and ethnicity doesn't mean a damn. Never has. So, for Marcus to make it an issue, well, Alcide wasn't surprised at his idiocy.

"So when did you and Melinda get together?"

"Mel's first mate died during the war with the Razorbacks, the Arkansas pack to the north of us. She had just given birth to Meg. A year prior, my wife died from complications after giving birth to Kenny. We were the only parents of babies at the time, so naturally, Mel and I leaned on each other. We had always been just friends, grieving for the ones we lost.

But about fifteen years ago, the elders were trying to set Mel up with some new blood that just joined. At that point we'd been raising our kids together for a little over a year. That's when I realized how I felt about her. I was jealous and angry, and when he touched her…" _I almost lost my fuckin' mind_ – he thought.

"That shit wasn't happening. Mel and Meg had become an integral part of my daily life, Kenny's too. _We_ made sense as a family and I didn't want to lose her to someone else.

I was already a vested wolf, so I used rank over the newcomer to get what I wanted. I asked her to be mine, in front of him, in front of the elders. She accepted immediately, which was a surprise. Up until then, I had no idea she felt the same for me. We marked each other the same night- been together since."

"_You_ went against your elders?" Cody asked. He would have never thought the straight and narrow Julien Delacroix, was capable of such a thing.

Julien let out a deep chuckle. "I did. That one time. Of course, as punishment the elders had me running nightly patrol for two solid months. Later on, I found out the old sneaky bastards were just forcing my hand and they only punished me to save face. If they hadn't orchestrated the whole thing, Mel and I would probably still be friends."

"I found it!" Bert barged in excitedly, carrying a rather large book; a foot long, a foot wide, and three to four inches thick. There was no spine. The strings that bound the pages together could be seen. The top and bottom covers looked to be planks of cut wood, but wasn't. It was flattened and sanded Water Oak bark; a tree indigenous to the Shreveport area.

The old man carefully held it in one arm as he cleared the table with the other. When opened, the paper looked withered and worn. Alcide could tell it had been around a long time, maybe a couple hundred years. Out of curiosity, he wanted to go through the pages, but decided against risking it. The paper was fragile and Alcide didn't know his own strength sometimes.

Alcide looked over Bert's shoulder but didn't understand the squiggles and marks. He'd never seen anything like it before.

"This code protects us from exposure. This book, our history, has been handed down from historian to historian throughout the generations. I guess you could call it our own script. It is my duty to keep it, update it, and teach it to the next historian before the end of my days. I still haven't picked a new apprentice yet."

Bert carefully lifted each page, scanning the text with his failing eyes. "Cody, go get my reading glasses… at the desk in the living room." When Cody returned with the thick rimmed glasses, Bert quickly huffed on each lens, wiped it with his shirt, and put them on. "Aha! Here it is." His eyes quickly scanned the text a few times, over and over. "Alcide, whose idea was it, to begin healing? The man or wolf? Think real hard about where the instinct originated."

"That's easy-the wolf. He kept showing me pictures, mental pictures of what he wanted done."

"Like?"

"My wolf cleaning her wolf…standing over her to keep the males away. He was pissed when I hesitated, so he took over- did it himself."

"What color is her wolf?"

"Black." Actually, it's a thick luxurious coat of jet black fur that he wanted to run his fingers through, just to see if it was just as soft as it looked.

"Did you have any strong feelings _before_ you had any of her blood?" Bert asked and Alcide nodded again. "What kind of feelings?"

"To protect her from harm…vengeance for every scar on her body." He remembered how he almost lost it in the truck, at the thought of wolves circling Jannalyn.

Bert raised an eyebrow at Alcide's low growls, then went back to reading. He quickly turned to another section of the book, read a few lines and closed his eyes. He pressed his lips together and crumpled both his brows. "I don't know how you're gonna feel about this…" he hedged.

"Well, spit it out!" Alcide was quickly losing patience, anxious to get to the bottom of this to go back home. Talking about her made it worse. He needed to see her _now _to make sure she was okay.

"I think your wolf has chosen a mate."

The entire kitchen stilled and all eyes went to Alcide. He'd stopped breathing for a second, as he absorbed the words, replaying them over and over in his head. The human part of two-natured individuals chose their mates, spouses, lovers…for the animal to choose is unheard of, but lately strange has been the norm.

"Explain" he breathed out, unable to form any other words.

"We are all taught the human in us is selfish. He wants the prettiest girl, the best house, the best education, the most money…All actions, all pursuits are to elevate and bring recognition to the individual.

We are also taught that the wolf wants what is best for the pack. He lives to serve the Whole, but just as we try to balance both wolf and man, we also need balance as individuals to better serve the Whole.

This is why some weres are promiscuous, because he or she feels incomplete and unfulfilled. They can't fill the void because they don't understand what they need. Their wolves haven't pointed them in the right direction. Yours has.

In your case, your wolf needs an equal among so many subordinates. The Long Tooth has always been a large pack and you need a strong, capable mate at your side. Right now, she's unfit for advances and your wolf recognizes her needs above his urges. If he didn't, she would be wearing an unwanted mark right now."

"You asked about the color of her wolf. Why?"

"In the history of our kind, it shows two Masters born of Alpha blood- like you- who ascended while unmated. Both times the Alphas chose mates. Both times, those she-wolves were true equals, capable of running the pack in his absence or illness. One black. One white. Both times. " Bert took his glasses off and looked his Packmaster in the eye. "I believe it has happened once more. You and this Jannalyn, shall be written in our histories as the Third pair, if she accepts you."

"What if she doesn't?"

"Trust your wolf, Alcide. All else will fall into place."

* * *

><p>Alcide drove home on autopilot, as Cody stared at the leader from the corner of his eye.<p>

Cody couldn't leave Alcide's side now, not until the situation with the other pack was settled. He wanted to complain at being babysat by the Packmaster, but being under Alcide's ass meant he could finally see Megan.

From the time of her induction, Cody observed and admired Megan from afar. He wouldn't speak to her because he was a blubbering idiot whenever he tried. His tongue seemed to tie itself and he was terrified of sounding stupid; so he stayed silent, often avoiding her completely to avoid any conversation whatsoever.

The wolves met Megan in the kitchen, who happened to be frying up a steak and banging the pan around like it pissed her off in some way.

"How is she?" Alcide asked quietly.

Megan turned from the stove and gave him a dirty look. She dumped the steak onto a plate and shoved it at Alcide. "Will you please take this to her? I have finals to study for." She stomped to the kitchen table where several textbooks and notebooks were piled. It was a mess. Books were opened and papers were everywhere.

"Hey." Alcide gently coaxed, as she plopped into a chair. "Why are you in a foul mood? What happened?"

"Abby happened. She showed up with a couple of bags and practically kicked me out of the room. Told me some bullshit about 'girl talk' like I lack a vagina or something. She's bossy and difficult and I don't know how to handle her right now. You better get her."

Alcide pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. He knew exactly how Megan felt. Abby could be extremely pushy when she wanted to be and gave no apologies.

He quickly schooled his facial expressions to look serious, determined to not be the insensitive asshole today. "Alright. Cody stay down here." He grabbed silverware and a knife to accompany the plate in his hands. "And keep your mouth shut, Cody."

Two steps at a time, Alcide ascended the stairs. Jannalyn stayed in the room they'd slept in and the thought pleased him. The door was closed but he could hear the two going back and forth.

_"You shouldn't have bought all this."_

_"It wasn't any trouble. You need underwear."_

_"I do, but I can't wear bras for a couple more days and this... this is not underwear."_

_"EVERY woman has these. G-strings and thongs-"_

_Jannalyn scoffed, interrupting Abby. "I prefer modesty in my undergarments when I choose to wear them." As she studied the triangular shape, she couldn't understand the purpose of such tiny and transparent scraps of material. It covered nothing and it made more sense to wear nothing at all. "__Clearly, we have different tastes." _

_"What exactly are you saying?" Abby was offended. What? Were these bras and panties below her or something? _

_"Other than this robe- thank you, but no thank you."_

_Abby gave a disapproving huff. "You're telling me you prefer granny panties?"_

_"Bikinis, boyshorts, and the like offer more coverage." _

_"But they're ugly."_

_"Solid, plain colors are not ugly. Besides, who would see them? I insist you return these things at once. "_

_"You know, it's rude to look a gift horse in the mouth."_

_"But it shouldn't be on it's way to the glue factory, either." Jannalyn deadpanned. Abby began to growl, but Jannalyn was undeterred. "I did not ask for this purchase and forcing your preferences on another is equally rude and pretentious. This isn't up for debate. I WILL NOT wear-"_

That was his cue to interrupt. Abby was pushing too hard. With Jannalyn, it was the equivalent of poking a bear, repeatedly, while chanting 'nanny, nanny, boo-boo'. Alcide quickly tapped on the door and slowly opened it, allowing plenty of time for Jannalyn to cover herself if needed.

Jannalyn stood in the middle of the room wearing nothing but a silk robe. It had a hideous floral print, but she still looked great in it. It was tied high on the waist and it accentuated her hourglass figure. His eyes snapped up to Jannalyn's face and she looked genuinely relieved to see him.

Time slowed as the unthinkable happened. She licked her lips as she stared in his direction and his breath caught in his throat. He felt like a deer caught in headlights under her hungry gaze. She strolled over with lacy material in her hands, hanging from her fingers tips.

"I'm starved. Thank you."

_Yeah, not you stupid, the plate_-he had to blink a few times and take a few breaths. Oh, how he _hated_ his inner horny bastard.

He quickly moved to give her the plate. She deposited the frilly lace undergarments in his empty hands, wanting nothing else to do with it. He lifted the scraps of fabric and his mouth dropped open at how tiny and thin they were. He was flabbergasted. Jannalyn was right- no modesty whatsoever. It was a Fredrick's of Bollywood kind of monstrosity that he'd rather not see Jannalyn wear. It was the same trashy shit Debbie use to buy. He grimaced at the thought.

"Reason with her. She's being ridiculous." Jannalyn advised seriously, her warning to Alcide to get the crazy pregnant lady off her back.

A howl of laughter sounded off from the corner of the room. _Oh God_- he forgot all about Abby. He rolled his eyes and gave Abby a harsh glare.

"Abby." It was a warning to watch herself but Abby's cackling continued.

"I wish I had a camera! Your face!" The pregnant she-wolf was doubled over, as much as her stomach would allow, laughing her ass off.

Jannalyn sat at the edge of the bed with the plate in her lap, but hadn't cut into her steak yet. Her left eye twitched in time with Abby's hoots of laughter.

"Abby, be mindful of her concussion. You're being too loud."

"That's it!" a yell heard from downstairs. Within seconds, Megan was in the room. "Get out, Abby." The words were spoken low and controlled, but absolutely furious. She dashed around the room, collecting the unmentionables and threw them back into the bags Abby brought in. "My patient needs sustenance, rest, and silence. Out. Now." The bags were held in the crook of a single finger, as she motioned towards the door.

Abby shoulders slumped and she looked properly scolded. "I'm sorry Jannalyn, if I made it worse." With that, she dejectedly left the room.

"Alcide, do you mind sticking around for a minute? I need to speak with Abby before she leaves and I'll be swamped with studies for finals."

"Go ahead. Don't mind at all."

The first rare bite of the steak had just gone into Jannalyn's mouth and his inner wolf was panting happily. The wolf loved seeing her eat, it meant she was regaining strength. When she finished, he felt the calmest he'd felt in days. He took her plate and placed it on the nightstand.

"Could you hand me that nightgown?" Alcide looked around the room and retrieved the white cotton fabric for her. "Could you?" Jannalyn gestured for him to turn around, so he did. He heard the fabric rustling and knew she was almost done with changing.

"You know, you shouldn't be ashamed of your scars."

"I'm not." She clipped defensively. She was _not _ashamed of her hard earned battle scars. "I just don't like the reactions of others."

"Am I okay to turn around?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I planned to sleep for a while, if you don't mind." She raised an eyebrow when Alcide made his way to the bed.

He laid on his back and patted at the space next to his large body. "C'mon. I know you're cold, so get on over here."

"You really don't mind?" she asked, sporting that cute confused look whenever Alcide was nice to her.

His only response was pulling the covers back, so she could climb underneath.

* * *

><p>Sookie was having a hell of a time with controlling her gift. Anymore she couldn't really call it anything but a curse. The random thoughts leaking into her mind were annoying, and an annoyed Sookie was a brash Sookie; and it greatly affected her tips.<p>

The giant bald headed man was back, seated at the bar again. His presence had her miffed, especially since he continued to studiously ignore her very existence.

His arrival was a spectacle. He rode in on a big noisy motorcycle, garnering the attention of several aficionados who went outside to admire it. When he walked in, he did the same as before; he looked around, took a lengthy yet discreet whiff, and made a beeline to the bar. He still hadn't taken off his sunglasses, which had Sookie rolling her eyes.

Holly had given her the 'you better not' look, something only a mother knew how to do properly. Sookie was amazed at how many messages that single look conveyed. It threatened an extensive piece of Holly's mind, whippins' with a switch, groundin' for life, and any other acts of punishment that may put a wrench in Sookie's day.

In this case, Holly would surely take too long in filling drink orders for Sookie and perhaps magic up a spell that would turn her skin green for a day or two.

Sam walked past Sookie near the front door, looking a little worse for wear. Sookie could tell how bad Luna and Sam's argument had affected him and it didn't help that her 'gift' was on the fritz.

_Why isn't she answering her phone? Holy shit, it's busy as hell. What the…_Sam's nose twitched and he went straight to the bald headed man at the bar. The stranger turned just in time to greet Sam, like he sensed Sam approaching.

"I'm Sam Merlotte, owner of this establishment." Sam didn't stick out his hand in the customary greeting, choosing to square his shoulders and cross his arms, instead. The behemouth stood to greet the shifter, unthreatened by the display. _Jesus Christ, what a big sonofabitch._

"John Quinn" the man nodded politely, in a deep authoritative voice. "Pleased to meet you, Sam Merlotte."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Dun, dun, dun! Until next time!**


	8. Transparency

****A/N: Hey guys and gals! Just a quick note to say 'thank you' to all who left reviews for the last chapter! ********I hope you enjoy this chapter as well :)****

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>**

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Eight: Transparency**

* * *

><p>Megan chased a wobbling Abby down the driveway, yelling behind her to stop. Thanks to Ludwig, Megan knew why everyone put blinders on, no matter how horrible Abby's demeanor and actions. Fluxing temperament and the robust smell of hormones meant a strong healthy pregnancy- so their inner wolves were naturally inclined to tolerate aggressive and annoying behavior. Megan also knew the onset of Abby's mood swings and erratic behavior came too early. It normally appears and peaks at around the seventh month, but in Abby's case, it appeared over two months ago, at around four months into her pregnancy.<p>

"Jesus, will you slow down?" Megan complained. "Look Aunt Abs, I'm sorry for that back there, but you need to…" the speech Megan intended to give was pushed to the side when she smelled salt. "Are you- _you_ cryin'?"

"No." It was a defensive and curt reply, along with a sniffle that told otherwise.

"Hmph! You shouldn't be. You ain't the one with a migraine that won't go away and dizzy spells. And her burns…she can't wear that fancy lace stuff. You gave no consideration to how that material would _feel _on _her_ skin- the rest of it. That was frickin' rude, Aunt Abs. You should've known better."

"I see that now. I just…I want her to like us, you know?" They didn't have many pack sisters left and her eagerness to gain another sister may have been a little on the desperate side. "You think I scared her away with all my craziness?"

"Believe me, you didn't scare her away. It sounded like she held her own."

Abby let out a proud, short giggle. "Yeah, she did. Oh God, you shoulda seen my brother's face! Poor man was thoroughly traumatized! By underwear!"

"Brother?"

Abby hadn't realized she said it. "Yeah" Abby replied softly. "This morning, I demanded straight forward answers from my mother. She was nursing a hangover when I got there, but she remembers Jackson's last name from the check he handed her all those years ago. She totally freaked because she thought I was sweet on Alcide."

"Does Alcide know?"

"No, didn't get a chance to tell him. I got kicked out, remember?" Abby teased half-heartedly, but Megan was preoccupied.

Megan's brain was doing it again, cataloguing info for a pre-medical diagnosis. "How much sleep are you gettin'?" she asked, noting the dark circles under Abby's eyes. Megan stepped forward and began pulling and prodding around her eyes.

"Not much lately, but last night was the most sleep I've had in a single night, all month. I usually wake up all hours of the night 'cause I have to pee all the damn time and my lower back aches." Abby whined, but seemed more irritated about it than anything.

"Hmm." Megan pulled at Abby's jaw. "Open." Megan took a good look around the inside of Abby's mouth and pressed on her gums. Then she moved to put her hand on Abby's abdomen. She pressed along the underside of her belly, which was a hard and taut, like a basketball. "Any pains? Or discharge?" Abby nodded in the negative, with a bewildered expression at Megan's vet and doctor-like actions and questions. "Got a paper and pen in there?" Megan nodded towards Abby's car.

"Yeah, in the middle console." Abby watched as Megan climbed in, jotted down a long list of items on the small pad, and then, handed it to Abby upon exiting the driver's seat.

"Go to Martin's Pharmacy and get everything on the list... and do us all a favor- return the lacy underwear. For now, I think plain is best. I'm talkin' Walmart brand cotton undies and sports bras, okay?" Megan waited until Abby nodded in agreement, then enveloped her in a hug. "Seeya in a few."

* * *

><p>Alcide watched Jannalyn as she maneuvered closer; the slow precise movements as she opted to ignore the lifted covers to lie on top of them instead. She was tense at first, but eventually she relaxed and curled into his side. In under two minutes, she fell into a deep sleep.<p>

Thirty minutes into her slumber, a scarred arm dragged across the planes of his chest muscles. He could feel the rough texture of her scars under his shirt, especially when her arm dragged across an erect nipple. It caught every ragged line in her forearm, and he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning out like a wanton hussy.

Simultaneously, her leg bent at the knee and crawled up his leg, passed over his thigh and kept going. It moved over his manhood to rest on top of it, like it belonged there. He grabbed the back of her knee to still a squirming leg; a leg intent on getting comfortable but was literally driving him crazy as it shifted minutely over his hips.

He shouldn't have looked down.

During the movement, the white cotton nightgown rode up, high on her hip…and it was apparent she wasn't wearing any underwear. He _knew_ she wasn't wearing any, but to _see_ she wasn't...

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!_

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about her naked crotch resting on his hip. He tried to ignore how easy it would be to rotate his hips just a quarter turn…If that happened, he would dry hump the shit of her for sure. Oh, what he wouldn't do to sink into her wet warmth, over and over again.

Jannalyn sighed.

Alcide's focus changed as the wolf moved to the surface. His vision sharpened and his eyes took on an ethereal orange-yellow glow. He stared down at her beautifully scarred face, as much as their positioning would allow, to take in her serene expression as she lie in his arms.

The wolf didn't identify Jannalyn as a chosen partner, but as an established _mate_; already his equal, already his partner, like they were already marked and consummated.

To the wolf, their pairing made sense. The black wolf is clearly the most dominant female in all of the territory, perhaps beyond. She's strong. A survivor. A great addition to the pack. All those things aside, her proximity brought a sense of calm and clarity for his wolf, an unrivaled sense of completion and purpose. Alcide couldn't identify the wolf's feelings as love, but it felt organic. Primal. Natural. Not played up by empty words or irrelevant human gestures, but like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly among so many other pieces in the world that didn't.

Her sigh was a contented sigh, one that conveyed how comfortable she was, as they shared the most basic necessity- heat. Alcide found the act strangely gratifying and intimate, despite the lack of carnal pleasure one usually shares with a mate. And when she moved to rub her cheek against his chest muscle, albeit in her sleep, the wolf immediately recognized it as a nuzzle- proof that she held some form of affection for him.

Her arm curled tighter and she nuzzled at him again, taking in a long sniff as the side of her nose made contact with his shirt.

A low, almost inaudible rumble sounded off in her chest, a distinct noise Alcide had never heard before, then the sound morphed into a high pitched lupine yawn. After those two distinct sounds, the wolf within was certain beyond reproach… the black wolf _is_ his life partner.

Alcide's heart melted a little but another part of his heart ached. The wolf within seemed happily convinced with these tiny displays, but the man in him, he needed more. Jannalyn hasn't shown any interest whatsoever, not while awake anyway, and was cautious at best in his presence. He barely knew the woman; he knew nothing of her past, nothing of her preferences, and had no idea if she had any intention of staying in the territory.

How could the wolf be so sure when the man wasn't?

The man and wolf were temporarily engulfed in all-things-Jannalyn; fully occupied with inner pondering and watching all of her tiny movements. So much so, that Alcide didn't notice Megan standing in the doorway.

"Is everything okay?" Megan asked in a hushed tone, mindful of her actions while Alcide's eyes blazed. If the Packmaster was angry, she sure as hell wasn't going in.

After a moment, his luminescent eyes returned to their normal muddled hue of brown, his head slightly turning to answer Megan. "Um, yeah."

Megan's tense shoulders visibly relaxed as she walked into the room, but her eyes zeroed in on Jannalyn's ass cheek, hanging out from the nightgown. She pulled the fabric in place to preserve whatever modesty she could, then placed a palm on Jannalyn's forehead and neck. The rise in temperature was a good sign, but the fact Jannalyn's temperature dropped so frequently was still an issue that needed to be addressed.

"Could I use your cellphone?" Alcide raised his brows in an unspoken 'what for'. "To call Ludwig? I have a question about Jannalyn's condition."

"What about? What's wrong?" Alcide's arms tightened around Jannalyn, causing Jannalyn to stir a little and whine in her sleep.

"Other than the fact that you're probably pinchin' skin?" Megan sassed, giving Alcide the evil eye for being too rough. Alcide's lips peeled back and he growled low at Megan, a warning to watch her tone. "Sorry. Just feelin' a lil' protective of my charge." Megan apologized sheepishly.

Alcide responded with a gruff 'hmph' and went back to staring at Jannalyn.

Megan noticed how Alcide scanned Jannalyn's extremities once more, just like how her Daddy does her Momma whenever he's worried. She'd only ever witnessed mated wolves doing the tell tale 'full body sweep' whenever one was worried about the other. She knew Alcide and Jannalyn weren't mated; she would've smelled and heard if they'd done the nasty, but Megan could tell- Alcide wanted to be Jannalyn's. Real bad.

"As you were sayin'?" Alcide asked, after noticing Megan's shit eating grin.

"Right." Her eyes darted left to right, as if recalling something she read. "Jannalyn's temperature keeps dropping to human temperature, which tells me there _could_ be some swelling around hypothalamus, which _could_ mean the internal damage is more extensive than a concussion- maybe from an old injury that I don't know about...or it could be a interaction or sensitivity to an ingredient in the tinctures or salves that I'm not aware of…or it could also be…"

Alcide was lost after hypo-thingamajig and interrupted. "Whoa. I'm not gonna pretend to understand any of that. You and Ludwig can figure it out. I think I left my phone in the truck. What's Cody up to?"

"He's in the kitchen, ignoring me as usual." Megan shook her head. "I'll only come up if it's something to worry about or when she needs another round of medicine."

"Alright. If you need help with anything, put Cody to work. He ain't gonna sit around idle after the stunt he pulled."

Alcide knew Cody heard him, because he heard a mumbled "shit"- Cody's default curse word. Allowing Megan to delegate tasks was meant to teach Cody some humility and to respect younger wolves. It also gave him a taste of what it's like to be lower in rank, something that was sure to happen if he kept screwing up.

Megan only nodded as she left the room, opting to forego any questions on Cody's 'stunt' during the first official run last night. She already knew the borders and the many rules associated with patrolling. If Cody was anything like her, he probably chased a skunk, possum, or raccoon, instead of staying on task.

Cody. What a strange, strange boy. One minute he's staring intensely- watching her every move, the next minute he's ignoring her and treating her like the plague. She often wondered if her father made threats, because all the adolescent males kept a overly respectful distance; they never lingered too close for too long and only spoke to her when it was absolutely necessary.

As she climbed down the stairs, she already had her mind set on a task Cody could accomplish with little trouble, but with quite a bit of humiliation while she studied for finals. Megan giggled, knowing bad boy Cody McCoy, wouldn't be caught dead picking flowers.

She needed two specific kinds.

Passion flowers grow in abundance on the roadsides and along farming fences. The locals call it 'Maypop' and children were often seen picking off the apricot-like fruits in the summertime. She only needed the blossoms, along with the stem and leaves going five inches down from the flower. With this, she planned to make a tea to help stabilize Abby's overall mood during the day and to relax her enough for decent sleep at night.

Blue Vervain also grows along roadsides. Megan vividly remembered loving these flowers as a child. The spikes of little pale lilac flowers were often made into 'flower crowns' by all the little girls. But now she knew the flower stalks and stems had to be harvested and dried before fall.

Wolf pups are ravenous at the breast and the use of this herb would aid Abby's milk production. It would also help alleviate some of the after pains of delivery.

Megan paused at the landing of the stairs, at being smacked in the forehead with a revelation. Both ingredients didn't cost anything, were all natural, and had very little side effects. Just as Jannalyn pointed out, Ludwig's zap of information already proved to be useful and it helped to calm some of Megan's anxiety about being tazered in the first place.

Peering into the kitchen, she found Cody sitting at the table, rubbing at his neck and shoulder while reading some of her notes for finals. He promptly moved to stand when she entered the room, like a gentleman- something he had never done around the guys.

"Sit, McCoy. Let me take a look at your shoulder."

He slowly sat back down and she stood behind his seat to get a better view. Megan grabbed his t-shirt by the waist and lifted to remove it, but Cody wasn't cooperating. He didn't bother to lift his arms. In fact, Cody had gone perfectly still, something wolves do when they sense danger or when they're nervous. The likelihood that her father threatened Cody within an inch of his life, sudden became extremely plausible. She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Oh c'mon! Really?" Megan chastised, irritated that Cody clammed up again. "You want the bites to fester? You can't lick 'em yourself and I know the boys won't." Silently, he acquiesced by lifting his arms, hissing in pain during the movement. The two ragged bite marks, the canine punctures that pierced muscle, made her wince. "Old man Berty tore you up, didn't he?" she voiced with a tsk, trying to converse with the mostly mute wolf, to ease the awkward tension between them.

"How do you know the old man did it?" he asked quietly, the first words he'd spoken to her in over three months. Needless to say, she was taken aback, but she quickly recovered.

"He led the run, didn't he?" she grabbed some paper towels, wet them, and started to dab at the encrusted blood around the punctures.

"What do _you_ know about runs?" Cody asked irritably.

She flicked his ear, hard, for being a sexist jerk. Males usually ran the border, but it didn't mean the women weren't capable. "I've been running the border with my folks, three to four times a month, for a few months now. Thank you very much."

Cody turned his head to look at her, shocked at the number of times she ran in a single month. Every muscle in his body was strained after last night's run and he did _not_ look forward to the next.

"What? Did you think my parents would leave me unsupervised? Around Marcus?" Megan threw the paper towels away, got fresh ones from the roll, and started the process of dabbing, all over again. "You know, Daddy won't discipline me, at all," Megan began with a giggle at Julien's aversion to disciplining his little 'Nutmeg', "but Momma doesn't play. You ain't the first to suffer a bite or two." Megan moved into a better line of sight and lifted the hem of her shorts, to reveal her own set of teeth marks on the back of her thigh. "I got this beauty right here, for wandering into the neutral zone… while chasing a raccoon." Megan shrugged. "I do well at first, but I almost always chase critters near the end."

Megan playfully bumped Cody with her hip, but his mood didn't budge. She tried to cheer him up by revealing her own follies, by showing him that all wolves make mistakes in their first few years, but he seemed to be more upset.

He was.

Megan, a wolf two years younger than Cody, but only one year into two-natured life compared to his four years- knew the border better and had obviously beaten him in the stamina department. He knew Megan was fast, but to keep up with Elders who have patrolled for decades, had him feeling inferior.

With Julien as her father, she probably knew more about Pack Duty and Pack Laws, too. If the aforementioned wasn't enough, Megan is a healer by default through gender; and the cherry on top- she didn't even know she's been taking care of Alcide's mate- a task reserved for only the most trusted in the pack. All of the above made him respect Megan more, but the fact remained, in less than one year, Megan accomplished more than Cody in his four years as a member. _Talk about being a shitty wolf._

Courting Megan seemed like far-fetched wishful thinking; Julien would never give his blessing and if by some small miracle Julien allowed it, Megan could have better- she deserved better than some orphaned punk who lives off a stipend from the pack- a pack he could be abjured from for starting war.

If the Long Tooth could move on unscathed from the current predicament with the other pack, he swore to every higher power out there that he'd change his ways and his circumstances. He wouldn't let the anger associated with his upbringing get in the way of being a true he-wolf anymore. He hated to admit it, but he had some serious changing and a fuckload of learning to do.

Maybe he could learn a thing or two from the new Packmaster now that Cody is formally 'jailed' for the time being. Maybe he could complain less on the next run, show more effort and control. Maybe he could do more for the pack; see to the needs of the retired and of those who were younger. There was so much proving to do; to himself, to Megan, to Julien, to his Packmaster.

"Hey, you alright?" Megan asked, concerned when he spaced out.

"Yeah. I'm good." A lie if he ever told one. He wasn't 'good', not yet, but at least he had a plan to set in motion.

She gave a small smile and moved behind his chair again. "You have to tell me when it doesn't sting anymore. You ready?"

* * *

><p>Jannalyn began to stir and nervous butterflies filled Alcide's stomach at the thought of Jannalyn's reaction upon waking. Just as predicted, she immediately tried to move out of their intimate positioning, but he held firm.<p>

"Don't get up yet." He whispered into her hair. "Please."

Jannalyn didn't respond verbally, she only nodded awkwardly, then slowly allowed her muscles to relax again. It's been years since any man allowed her to be this close and although she wanted to enjoy the warmth, a bigger part of her wanted to question Alcide's reasons. She suspected Alcide was just lonely, like her, and perhaps missing the warmth of another in his bed. Bitter battled with sweet as she laid there; but in the end, she decided this- whatever _this_ was- was far better than the usual reactions from males. It actually felt nice to be touched and hugged and held onto, but she still felt like a substitute... Debbie Pelt's substitute.

_Stop over_ _thinking_- she told herself. She would enjoy _this_, for whatever his reasons or however long _this_ lasted.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence as Alcide played with the ends of her hair. His fingers kept grazing her arm and back- a marred, partially numb back- but he touched her all on his own. His fingers followed the ridges of her deepest scars, the ones delivered the night of her liberation by a silver chain whip; the only set that mattered among the many. She awaited questions that never came.

More silence. More touching.

Grazing fingers became an exploratory palm, and then that exploratory palm began to squeeze and massage the flesh of her neck and back.

What happened next was a chain reaction of events.

Her body arched into his, at the delicious feel of his rough wandering hands massaging a particularly sensitive spot at her lower back. Alcide responded to the pressure with a deep 'mmm' and that sound, that wonderful fucking sound had her wet in a heartbeat. Alcide's entire body stiffened at smelling sweet arousal perfuming the air, and with a low growl, he had her pinned beneath him.

She stared up at Alcide in shock of the swift movement, but was even more shocked that the Beast wasn't reacting. Jannalyn could feel the Beast paying close attention, but that traitorous bitch was emitting curiosity, patiently waiting for another nice sound from Alcide.

Alcide stared down at Jannalyn and slowly rolled his hips. Her eyes rolled back a little as she gasped and her scent became heady and rich, clouding his senses in a blanket of her wonderful aroma. A deep breath and a low growl later, his lips crashed to hers and his tongue invaded her mouth. But she wasn't kissing him back. He pulled back to see what was wrong and she looked confused again.

"Oh shit" Alcide mumbled, "I'm-" Jannalyn pressed her fingers to his mouth.

"Don't." She didn't want an apology, an explanation of what the hell was happening maybe, but not an apology. If he gave her one, it would mean that kissing her was a mistake or that he was remorseful for it. "I just," her face scrunched and she sighed. "I don't...I don't."_ Know how_- she almost said. "Can we just... lay here for a minute? Like we were?"

"Sure. Whatever you want." Relieved she wasn't offended, he rolled onto his back, as Jannalyn took up her prior position. A long period of silence fell on them. It seemed seconds and minutes were slowly ticking by, but then Alcide remembered..."There's somethin' I need to ask of you." Jannalyn grew tense and she lifted her cheek from his chest to look him in the face. Her grey eyes searched his brown orbs in question. "I need a favor."

And there it was. The words that make her heart drop, every damn time. Every Packmaster she's came across the last five years wants to either question her to death or wants favors, and Alcide wasn't _any_ different.

A stinging empty hole opened up inside of her chest, threatening to swallow her whole. She quickly evacuated the bed and gave Alcide her back, trying to regroup, desperate to get herself together before he saw how hurt she really was. Part of Jannalyn was angry, mostly at herself for putting too much stock in his pleasant and gentle demeanor, for deluding herself into thinking there might have been more to his attention. She tried to muster up indifference and tried to school her facial expression to a practiced nonchalance, but she wasn't sure if she could pull it off yet.

"What…" her voice wavered, due to what felt like a boulder lodged in her throat. She swallowed hard. "What are you asking for?" she whispered, almost inaudibly.

Alcide panicked. _Oh fuck_, he didn't mean _sexual favors_. "No. Not that kind of favor!" he rushed out, also hastening out of the bed to stop her from fleeing before he could explain.

But she wasn't running. As a matter of fact she remained in the same spot, but every visible muscle on her arms and legs, tensed and rippled.

She slowly turned around and Alcide was utterly surprised at what he found. Her entire face was expressionless, but her grey eyes told it all. The storm brewing in them was palpable, the wariness and anger there was insurmountable, and his words, his stupidity put it there.

"Repayment, then?" It was a callous whisper, full of bite and all things dark. "Tell me, what is it?"

"Jannalyn, let me explain," he reached for her, but she quickly stepped out of his reach. His hands dropped to his sides and his fists clenched in frustration. "Goddamnit! I'm not trying to take advantage of you!" Raising his voice felt wrong, so with a sigh, he quickly toned it down. "I need you to teach the women to fight."

Her head tilted in suspicious curiosity and she took a step forward, then another. "Is that so? You could have asked outright, instead of trying to taste my fucking tonsils." She huffed in disgust, for these stupid games people play. "What if I refuse? What then?" she challenged.

"They could die or worse."

_Well this is fucking new_- she thought. She expected a threat or an ultimatum. She expected to hear some half-assed order she had no intention of obeying anyway. She certainly didn't expect the words that just tumbled out of his mouth. The worry on his face caught her attention but she didn't let on. This wasn't a time for empathy, this was a time for facts. "Why? Who intends to harm them?"

"War may be comin' and from what I understand, none can defend themselves properly."

"War?" she asked. Despite the budding attachment to Alcide and the slow respect developing for the women, Jannalyn's first instinct was to run fast and hard, straight out of Long Tooth territory. Violent situations awaken the Beast and the last thing she needs is it running free and unchecked, killing everyone in her path, regardless of whose side she was on. Still, she was compelled to ask. "Tell me, who started it?"

"We did."

Jannalyn pressed her lips together to keep from cussing him out, for trying to use her like this. A takeover- she should've known. That stinging hole in her chest exploded outwards and she felt the Beast wandering back and forth from the surface. It roared in confusion; it didn't know if it should retreat to let Jannalyn handle this, or if it should come out to rip his fucking head off. Jannalyn locked all her muscles, refusing to move, afraid she would lunge at him.

"It was unintentional." Alcide amended, at seeing the pure rage in her eyes.

He could see she was struggling internally; her grey eyes glowed on and off, so bright the color was almost white. An overwhelming urge took over; the need to make things okay between them, the need to explain. The white wolf paced inside, demanded that Alcide fix this shit, and right fucking now. The wolf hated this, it felt wrong to be the source of his mate's anger and if Alcide was honest with himself, he didn't like it much either.

"One of the youngsters followed a scent and crossed a few steps into another territory last night. I don't want war, but if it comes, the women will stand with us and Megan was never taught. I'm not askin' you to be involved in the fightin'. I don't want you there when shit goes down. I'm askin' you to teach them _something_- anything to defend themselves. That's all."

"I don't understand why you require my assistance. Why can't _you_ teach them?"

"I ascended the night you came into town. A new Packmaster roughing up females will cause problems and I can't have the pack at odds with war on the horizon. I need your help, Jannalyn. You're the only option I have."

His reasons changed everything, if there was any truth behind it. Some packs would jump at the slightest infraction, at any chance to take over another's territory. Jannalyn studied his face as she breathed slow breaths to calm herself. There were no obvious signs of lying; no irregularities in his breaths or heartbeats, no miniscule facial cues, no fidgeting, no dilated or wandering eyes…but he looked miserable.

Alcide's request, was just that, a request. She could always turn him down, but that's what they all imply, until she actually says no. Then it's all teeth and fur and six on one...

But what if her suspicions of being used were wrong? Could she live with walking away without helping the people who cared for her the last few days? Absolutely. She _could_ live with walking away...she always walked away, one way or another. But Jannalyn knew, in the back of her mind, she'd blame herself for their demise and she couldn't live with any more guilt.

"Before I agree to do anything for you- for this pack, I need total transparency. And don't plan on me relying on your word alone. I intend to ask the others. If I detect a single lie, if anything doesn't add up, I'm out of here."

Jannalyn removed her nightgown, like Alcide wasn't even standing there. She went to one of the boxes full of clothes and picked out simple dark grey sweat pants and the matching zip up jacket. Without hesitation, she put the articles of clothing on. Out of the other box, she retrieved a pair of black flip-flops and slipped them on her feet.

"Let's go. I need to speak to everyone on patrol last night." Jannalyn had already made the four steps to the bedroom door and had it propped open.

"Now?"

"Under the circumstances, yes. The sooner the better."

* * *

><p>After a brief once over by Megan- Alcide, Jannalyn, and Cody piled into the blue pick up to head to the barn owned by Albert Monroe.<p>

The Packmaster would lead the run under the cover of night with several adults, so making the barn a meeting point for the adolescents to be questioned by Jannalyn and for the adults to prepare for border patrol, made perfect sense.

Cody loathed being in the cramped space of the truck cab with probably the most intimidating woman he'd ever met. He could sense why Alcide's wolf chose her. Jannalyn, the Packmistress apparent and the Alpha female of the territory, had a certain air about her; a predatory confidence that demanded respect and threatened all things sinister if shown otherwise.

Cody remained calm and respectful, despite the urge to stare. There was something about her appraising eyes that freaked him out more than the visible skin of her neck and hands. Her grey eyes had a penetrating gaze; observant and analytical, like they saw down to his soul, picked and peeled everything apart, and already had him figured out.

And her scent. Cody thought Alcide was exaggerating about how good she smelled, but he wasn't. Jannalyn has a distinct essence; like flowers and honey and milk, but the pleasant combination did not produce the same reaction as it had his Packmaster. He could also smell the Packmaster all over her, the distinct notes of oak, linen, and leather- which served as a clear indication of who belonged to who.

Cody was suddenly aware that sitting shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip with Jannalyn would transfer scents. Out of respect for the two, Cody scooted closer to the door, cranked his window down a little, and pretended to be consumed with the scenery.

The gust of wind blowing around the truck's cab, carried a scent Jannalyn recognized. Her hand gripped Alcide's thigh in excitement, as she sniffed the air wildly. Her head whipped around, following the scent in the air. "Do you smell that?"

"Sulfur and blood. We're passin' a fanger bar." Alcide knew which bar, the only vampire bar in town- Fangtasia.

"Stop the truck."

* * *

><p>Sam couldn't believe it. John Quinn is in <em>his<em> bar.

John Quinn, or just Quinn as preferred, is a celebrity among two-natured. Currently, he's the master of ceremonies and part owner of a popular events and catering company that specifically caters to all supernatural beings. Due to his extensive knowledge of rites, ceremonies, and celebratory affairs, not to mention- his impeccable taste- most supes were willing to pay high dollar and wait on an extremely long waiting list, to have a 'John Quinn catered event'.

But the success of his business isn't what originally threw him into the spotlight. He's a rarity to begin with- a weretiger, an extremely large weretiger at that, who was once an undisputed champion of gladiatorial events- the supernatural version of the mixed martial arts sport. He left the arena seven years ago and it was a big deal because he just walked away...disappeared off of every radar for a year or two. And he never fought in a prize fight again. Refused.

"Wow." Sam extended his hand, which was received by a much larger one and firmly shaken by Quinn. "I apologize for being rude. Sit. Sit." Sam insisted.

Quinn gave a wide smile at Sam's recognition and change in demeanor. "Bygones" he said, as he sat back down. Quinn didn't take the guarded reception personally. It's one of the downsides of being 'rare'. The scent of weretiger always unnerves two-natured because they rarely come across it and don't recognize the 'animal' at first.

"Is it true, what they say about your-?" Sam gestured at his own eyes, trying to be discreet. It seemed like an irrelevant question, but Sam couldn't suppress his curiosity.

A deep baritone laugh exploded out Quinn. It never failed. Out of the thousands of questions one could ask, the color of his eyes always seemed to be the very first one. The weretiger pulled his sunglasses down a little, revealing deep amethyst colored eyes and three scar lines going down the bone of his left eyebrow, down to the cheek bone.

"Holy fuckin' shit." Sam whispered incredulously. "Is everything they say about your kind true?"

"I hope not!" Quinn chuckled. He drained the large pilsner of beer and motioned at Holly for a refill. With a smile, she picked up the glass and headed straight to the beer tap.

"It's on me, Holly." Sam called out.

"Sure thing boss man." Holly called back over the noise of the pre-dinner crowd.

Sookie seethed at Sam's friendliness towards the large bald headed man. It seemed Quinn spoke to everyone but her, and adding Sam, just pissed her off. She huffed and went back back to work, knowing she could ask Sam later on about the stranger.

"I hope you don't mind me askin', but what brings you to Louisiana? Hell, what brings you _here_, to sleepy ole Bon Temps?" Sam sat in the bar stool next to Quinn, paying genuine and rapt attention.

"Passing through, originally." Quinn's shade covered eyes swept the bar to make sure others weren't listening. "But I stumbled across the scent trail of someone from my past, an opponent from my days in the arena." He quieted as Holly came forward with a filled pilsner. "Thank you, Holly." She winked with a smile, then promptly moved away to tend to other customers. "The scent faded here. I've been trying to pick it back up, but no luck. I'm hoping she passes back through."

"She?" Sam asked. His heart started to speed up at the implications. The 'she' could be the wolf who saved Sam from being ambushed, and he didn't want to hang her out to dry without knowing why Quinn was looking.

"Yes. She." Quinn stared at Sam through his dark sunglasses, noting an intensity in the smell of salt. Perspiration. The shifter knows something.

"We have plenty of two-natured around these parts. What does she look like?" Sam motioned for Holly to bring him a beer, to which Holly raised a brow in surprise. Sam never drank on the job.

Quinn traced a ragged scar on his arm. "She has a lot of these, like me. Beautiful, if you can see past them. Annoying. A little scary."

"A little?" Sam hadn't meant to let it slip, but he owned up to it. "That chick is scary as fuck, but if you mean her any harm..." Quinn chuckled at Sam's threat.

"Look, Sam. She and I have a history, a violent one in the beginning that turned into... something else. I _crave_ setting my eyes on her again, just to know she lives... I need to know if she's happy."

Oh fuck. Sam knew his type. Sounds like a well-wishing ex-boyfriend, the kind that can't move on until he knows she's alright.

"But you can't let her know I'm here."

"Huh? Why's that?"

"I'm serious Sam. She'd say I'm spying on her, and then she'd kick my ass all over the place."

It was Sam's turn to laugh, because he couldn't imagine some female layin' the smack down on this particular weretiger. He's heard the weretiger took on ten wolves once and never broke a sweat. "Her? Kick _your_ ass?"

Quinn was suddenly serious, when his disposition had been light and cordial. "You have no idea who she is? Do you?"

"You said she was an opponent, so I'm guessing she was a prize fighter, like you, but I never really followed the sport." Sam admitted.

Quinn shook his head in the negative, then drained the rest of his beer. "No, Sam. Have you heard of the Pits?"

"Who hasn't?" Sam answered gravely, discreetly. The thought of that place made his blood run cold. The Pits didn't have contenders and prize fights with a referee, they had slaves owned by slavers, who fought to the death. Supes who became enslaved, entered the Pits to never return.

"She's The Ripper."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know! **


	9. Fangs and Fur

**A/N: A quick note to deliver high fives to all who followed and continue to follow. I love fanfiction! You guys and gals are awesome here!**

**To my reviewers: You are AWESOME! After reading a couple, I literally did a happy dance; an out of time, extremely dorky, and ridiculously embarrassing happy dance. It rivalled my "I just got some" cabbage patch/wipe out dance, but that's neither here nor there... My point is, those lengthy reviews made me happier than a pig in shit with a box of donuts! SO Thank you from the bottom of my heart!**

*****My deepest gratitudes to Blackangel90 for helping me with the Swedish translations.*****

* * *

><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Nine: Fangs and Fur**

* * *

><p>"No. No way." It didn't make sense.<p>

Like most therians, Sam has heard all the rumors over the years, and as with all rumors, all have varying degrees of truth. But the part that never changed was that The Ripper was a soulless killing machine; born in the Pits and raised by vampires to have no conscience- no humanity.

But Jannalyn saved him from an ambush and took full responsibility for the kill with the local pack...that didn't sound like a soulless killer to Sam. She seemed a bit shy, skittish even, but her actions that night were honorable. Lord knows, Sam had never been more grateful for another's interference.

Although... ripping out the other wolf's throat seemed way too easy for the scarred she-wolf...

_"You've made enemies, shifter." The she-wolf kept her eyes on the body, studying it while it twitched post-mortem, almost as if she expected it to resurrect. When the death spasms stopped, the calm she exuded after a kill seemed out of place. It was abnormal. Eerie._

_"Seems so." Sam scratched the back of his head, as he speculated about the dead female and why she came after him. After a deep sniff, he realized he could smell faint traces of Marcus. _

_"You should take your family away from here for a few days, so you aren't blamed for her death" she rasped, as she wiped crimson liquid from her jaw and neck with the back of her hand. "I'll wait for the local pack to arrive."_

_"The pack didn't sanction an attack on me."_

_"Sure seems that way." The suspicion and disbelief was obvious in her demeanor and her grey eyes glowed a little as a she stared at Sam._

_"I just left the new Packmaster's. We're friends." He made his status with the pack clear, just in case this particular wolf had issue with him, herself. "Now, I don't want anymore troub-"_

_"I have no quarrel with you" she interrupted, "and I don't want one, either. Not with you, not with anybody."_

_"So why'd you intervene? You must know there's a chance her people could come after you." Sam hoped to engage her in a conversation, because he needed to know why the female chose to kill one of her kind for a stranger, for a shifter._

_"Sam? What was that noise?! It sounded like-" Luna stood in the threshold of the backdoor, taking in the scene before her. "Oh God, are you alright? Sam, what- who-" Luna didn't finish her sentence. Her eyes zoomed all over the naked she-wolf's body, with her mouth hanging open._

_The stranger stepped into the shadows but Sam's eyes had already adjusted to the dark. He could see the wolf trying to cover her neck and chest with her hair. It was pointless, because there were so many scars elsewhere, but it was apparent she was uncomfortable with Luna's blatant ogling._

_"Luna, go back inside." Sam ordered harshly, letting Luna know there was no room for argument. He rarely used that tone with Luna, but to stare was uncalled for and rude._

_"Someone's coming. I'll need an escort to the Packmaster when I'm done" the she-wolf announced softly. Sam watched as lone wolf hefted the body over a shoulder, like it weighed nothing. She disappeared further into the shadows of the trees, as Emma looked out from behind the backdoor._

_"Mommy," Emma squeaked out, causing Sam to grimace. The poor kid's nerves were shot and she couldn't sleep. "Sam, I'm scared."_

_"Luna, stay inside with Emma. I'll be right back." Sam assured, but made sure to address Emma. "I'll be right back, Em. I promise." He moved off of the porch and shifted into an owl to find and follow the she-wolf from the sky, leaving nothing but his clothes behind._

_Roughly a half hour later, Sam found the female standing on a log in the middle of the swamp, peering into the dark murky water. It didn't take a genius to figure out what she'd done with the body, as he recalled having to do the same with the bodies of his parents to clean up Tommy's mess, not very long ago._

_He swooped low within the she-wolf's line of sight and with a shimmer, he switched to watch her from the banks. When she was satisfied that the gators had done their job, she carefully made her way over to Sam, using downed trees to avoid the water. As she approached, he could see she looked clean of blood and was raking fingers through damp hair to make herself presentable._

_"You didn't jump into that water, did you?" He knew she did, as there was no other water source around, but it didn't stop the question from falling out of his mouth._

_She raised a brow and tilted her head. "I did. What is it to you?"_

_"Hello! Gators? Chomping on a body? And that water is nasty."_

_"What was I supposed to do? Introduce myself to the local Packmaster covered in blood?"_

_"You could've gone back to my place for a sho-"_

_"No," she interrupted."Implications, remember? My scent in your trailer? Think about it."_

_"I told you, the pack didn't sanction an attack-"_

_"And I told **you**, it sure seems that way" she challenged, but Sam couldn't fault a stranger for not trusting his word, so he dropped it._

_"You never answered my question." Sam pointed out, casually leaning against a tree in the buff while the she-wolf shook her hair out._

_"Which one?" she huffed out, aggravated with the shifter for questioning her at all._

_"Why'd you step in to help me? Why get involved?"_

_She loudly sighed. "At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. Now let's get my punishment over and done with."_

"Here ya go, Sam." Holly placed a bottle of light lager in front of Sam with a thud, purposely clacking it on the wood to bring his attention back to the present.

Sam gave a lopsided smile in thanks and Holly responded in kind, quickly getting back to work.

"I think we're talkin' about two different people, Quinn." Sam took a long swig from the bottle and kept his mouth shut. He wasn't giving this guy anything else, no matter how famous, because he just wasn't sure about his intentions.

Quinn reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He opened it and stared at a photo, debating on whether he should let this shifter see so much into his personal life. He traced the profile of a face with his thumb and reluctantly slid the opened wallet on the bar over to Sam. "Maybe. Take a look and see."

One by one, Sam flipped through the mini-rolodex of pictures.

One showed Quinn, the she-wolf, and a very young female, huddled around a woman in a hospital gown; a woman who looked to be Quinn's mother. "My mother, my sister, Jan and I." Quinn supplied with a rueful smile, peering over at the picture. Sam noted the she-wolf's name, Jan.

The next picture was of Jan standing in front of Quinn, both making funny faces at the camera.

The following picture was of Jan and the younger female, the one Quinn said was his sister. Both were wearing semi-formal dresses and wore corsages. The picture was taken in the standard pose, with balloons in the background. The subsequent three pictures were of Quinn and Jan in various poses during a slow dance, apparently taken on the same night.

"We chaperoned a dance at my sister's private school." Quinn briefly thought of that night; of Jan pacing nervously and exuberantly voicing her concerns about attending a dance where the majority of the attendees were human preteens- preteens she deemed 'easily rattled', 'unpredictable', and 'hormonal'. It was comically apparent to Quinn that Jan had a bout of cold feet; she'd never been to a dance and had never been around so many humans. She just didn't know what to expect and she _hates_ that. It took twenty minutes to convince Jan get into the car that night and another twenty to convince her to go inside after they arrived.

Sam had seen enough, so he slid the wallet back to Quinn. "Okay, so you _do_ know her, and you obviously care enough to keep pictures in your wallet, but the woman I met and the stories I've heard about The Ripper, just ain't matchin' up."

Quinn sighed and slightly turned in the bar stool. "I know you don't believe me, but I swear on my hide, Jannalyn Bannister and The Ripper, are one and the same. And regardless of that fact, my intentions are to just set eyes on her and go. That's all."

"Well, it's been several nights ago since I saw her last. She may not even be around anymore." _Jesus Christ. I have to call Alcide._

With Sookie's gift on the fritz, she could hear Sam's frenzied and worried thoughts. Sookie usually received fuzzy images and colors that indicated Sam's mood, but never his thoughts, unless he was really close and even then, it was just fragments of thoughts. She spun around to tell him to chill out; to remind Sam the more emotional a person, the louder a person broadcasts. She thought Sam would be within arm's distance, but he wasn't there. Her brown eyes scanned the room and found him. Clearly hearing Sam's thoughts from across the room was distressing to say the least, and Sookie could no longer concentrate on her tables. She calmly walked over to Sam and touched his arm to get his attention.

"Sam, I'm having trouble tonight, with that _thing_ I have" she whispered discreetly, just in case others overheard. "I think I need to go home." At that precise moment, she heard Quinn's thoughts.

_Fuck, she reeks. She's bound to a fucking vampire and is still traipsing around like she's single, touching unrelated mated males._

Sookie immediately rounded on the bald headed man. "Excuse me?! I don't _stink_ and what the hell do you mean by bound?"

Quinn slid out of the chair, stood to his full height, and let out a low snarl; furious that his thoughts had been eavesdropped on. He knew there was only one species that had telepathic abilities- Faeries- and Quinn has seen their true creature-esque forms and knew just how deadly they could be.

Sam immediately jumped between the two, hoping to keep a pissed off weretiger from sprouting fur and a mouthy faerie hybrid from giving everyone a light show. "Whoa! Everybody calm down." He extended his arms, trying to put distance between them. "Sook, walk away. Right. Now." _Fuckin' Christ! You don't know who you're fuckin' with! Get out of here! - _Sam thought directly at Sookie and the brat rolled her eyes.

"I'll get out of here _after_ he tells me what he means." Sookie narrowed her eyes at Sam, then craned her neck to address the bald headed man. "What's this _bound_ bullshit?"

* * *

><p>Elijah gloated on the throne over his small victory over Pam, as Tara helped her Maker up from the floor.<p>

Pam had been thrown into a wooden table that broke in a hundred or so pieces, and any single piece could have spelled true death had it pierced Pam's abdominal cavity. This fact, ignited a surge of protectiveness in Tara. Abrasive demeanor aside, Pam is still her Maker, the only version of _family_ that she had left.

Both had gone outside to man the door as bouncers, at Elijah's order. Pam was furious, as Tara felt it in their blood bond, but that anger was laced with an oppressive version of defeat.

_Fuck this shit- _Tara thought. Her Maker took shit from nobody, nobody but Eric Northman. Speaking of..."Where the fuck is he, when we need him to beat the literal fuck out of Elijah?" Tara grumbled and she immediately felt Pam's worry for Eric through the bond.

"That lying piece of shit." Pam outwardly seethed in between checking I.D.s. "No more, my ass."

"Who is he to order us around? Personally, I wanna stake that motherfucker in the face."

And that statement, was what Pam absolutely loathed about her progeny. Although Tara had the right mindset and temperament for a vampire her age, she still liked to run her mouth without thought of the actual words leaving her lips. It was one thing to have a disparaging opinion about a Sheriff, but throwing around the word "stake" in reference to said Sheriff, in front of a line of patrons trying to get into the bar, was a no-no.

Pam turned her head and gave Tara a dirty look, one of the dirtiest yet. "Keep on announcing threats and we'll both be truly dead by sunrise. For the very last time, shut your fucking mouth." Pam hissed and some of the humans in line stepped back.

A musky smell of 'were' floated to them on the wind. A deep inhale indicated there was more than one lingering around the property. Both vampires stilled as their eyes shifted around to scan the environment.

A single bitch stood in the field adjacent to the Fangtasia's parking lot, a few hundred yards out; a 'protocol' only out of town vampires adhered to when visiting an area. Pam raised a brow as she'd never seen a 'were' do this before, and her reaction made Tara pay attention and notice the same. What was even more strange, is that the she-wolf posed perfectly still. _Like a fuckin' vampire_- Pam thought. It was almost like a looking at a photograph, other than the puffs of steam from the she-wolf's breaths.

"I request an audience with the 'Old One'. He's a Sheriff. Your Maker, I believe." Jannalyn whispered, knowing the vamps heard her clearly.

"Your _belief_ isn't conclusive and your request is denied." Pam knew the 'were' heard her as well. "Move along, you and your fucking animals. Your kind are not welcomed here." Pam turned her back, returning her attention to the line once more, but the bitch in the field wasn't done.

"Perhaps my kind isn't welcome, but I know I am." Jannalyn took a deep breath. "I can smell him everywhere. This property smells like him. _You_ smell like him."

Absurd. Pam couldn't smell like Eric. They've not been in each other's company in several nights, but who else could the female be referring? "He is currently _indisposed_ and I highly doubt you have _any_ business with my Maker."

Jannalyn smirked at the vampire's dismissive attitude. It was time to pull out the big guns. "Det har jag inte, men jag känner honom bättre än du tror."(I do not, but I know him better than you think.)

Hearing Swedish roll off the bitch's tongue infuriated Pam. She knew Eric kept things from her, that Eric didn't divulge all of his activities over the years, but having_ slept with a 'were' bitch? Really?_ It was the only reasonable conclusion Pam could come up with, as Eric only spoke this language with those he was particularly fond of, and he has been known to whore himself to everything under the moon at least once. She thought he detested pack creatures for murdering his mortal family, but lately, it seemed she knew nothing at all. After Eric's memories returned, he's been a revelation at every turn; always doing the unexpected, always unpredictable.

"You may come forward to leave your message." Pam drawled dryly, trying her best to hide the deep desire to see what compelled her Maker to bed a female of this particular species.

"Not a good idea. I insist you come to me." Jannalyn waited, knowing her insistence would annoy the vampire currently trying to blow her off.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Pamela complained with a stomp of her stilettos and a roll of the eyes. Pam told a disgruntled Tara to stay put, who preferred to be attached to Pam's hip at the moment. _All she's missing is a soggy diaper_- Pam irritably thought about Tara, as she zipped away into the field to stop five feet from the visitor. With her hands on her hips, Pam looked the she-wolf in the eyes first, then slowly looked her up and down.

"Well damn, aren't you lovely." Pam purred sarcastically and honestly. _Pretty, despite the resemblance to a scratching post. Hmm. Nice tits. _Her fangs made an involuntary descent, clicking loudly into place. _Insolent fucking fangs_- Pam thought, though she seemed extremely pleased with herself. The she-wolf raised both eyebrows but didn't seem alarmed or offended.

Alcide and Cody were standing in the saplings at the edge of tree line, listening and watching from a distance. Alcide growled threateningly at Pam's obvious fang boner, Cody too, although Jannalyn didn't know why on both counts.

Pam understood why the female chose to be approached. Scars like her's garnered an assortment of reactions, depending on the age of a vampire.

Newly turned vamps would attack on sight, an inherent reaction built into the species that fades with age. Young vamps would stop and stare, just to count the imperfections. With this many scars, fangs would drop and a whole shitload of hissing would ensue. Pre-quincentenary vamps, like herself, would surely respect the danger this female posed, perhaps find her intriguing, if not, attractive. The old, like Eric, were more inclined to chase those who were equally dangerous and taboo. Normally, the dangerous and taboo were vampires of the same age or older, but on occasion, they've been known to go 'interspecies'. This one would surely attract Eric's attention...

"As you can see, I'm busy playing 'door bitch'. Now, what's the message?" Pam drawled in death boredom as she glanced at her perfect manicure.

"Who says your Maker is no more?" Jannalyn asked, to which Pam did a double take in curiosity. She hadn't realized anyone overheard her and Tara's conversation, especially a 'were' from a couple hundred yards away.

"A vampire by the name of Elijah. By will of the Auth- a higher power, he's been named the new Sheriff and has essentially taken over the bar."

"And...what of his remains? Have you receive them yet?" Jannalyn's words were thick, full of emotion, and Pam couldn't help but to gulp down the emotions stirring in her chest at the thought of her Maker's demise. He'd never gone this long without some form of contact. By the third night, he almost always _at least_ texted his whereabouts...and she was beginning to wonder if he had, in fact, met true death.

"I've received nothing." Pam spit out venomously. "I haven't felt or heard from him either."

Jannalyn growled and began to pace, the first actions that proved to Pam the female was indeed, an animal. "Then he isn't gone. If he was permanently removed by Royalty or the Authority, by law, all progeny receive a glass urn. This Elijah, he would have hand-delivered it to you, as proof."

Pam watched the wolf, who seemed just as angry. Any doubts that the female knew Eric were erased the second she said 'royalty' and was reinforced with the word 'Authority'. Not many non-vamps knew the details of vampire politics and she obviously knew the Blood Rites, the funeral styled handling of vampire remains upon true death.

There were only a handful of two-natured in North America with intimate knowledge of their ways and as Pam mentally recalled the names of those individuals, she suddenly realized who this woman could be...

"I'm sure he will return to you. I must go." Jannalyn began to walk away, towards the two waiting wolves.

"Wait." Pam called out. If Pam's suspicion was correct, there were no others like this particular she-wolf with this particular description. Over the last decade, Pam heard stories from others who claimed to have seen her, but Pam thought all the stories were bullshit, a supernatural urban myth. There would be no way vampires would allow such a person to live, unless she had powerful friends, like Eric...although Eric has never said a word about having met her acquaintance. "This place needs a change of management. Perhaps, you could assist?"

Jannalyn briefly stopped in her tracks. "You have no clue what you're asking. I have to go."

"I'll make it worth your while. I know who you are." The she-wolf kept walking and Pam's words became desperate. "Everything we built together is being tainted. Defiled! You must help me!" Pam's voice shook, as blood tears began to form. "If he ever meant anything to you..." Pam began. She knew she was begging, maybe grasping at straws and pulling at heart strings that may not exist between the she-wolf and her Maker, but fuck it all if she lost everything now.

Jannalyn turned and she growled angrily. "If you know who I am, you wouldn't _dare_ question what he means to me."

Tara felt Pam's distress rising and came running at a human pace to comfort her Maker, but upon getting an eyeful of of an angry Jannalyn up close, the young vampire hissed and attacked. Tara managed to scratch Jannalyn with a swipe, but in three moves Tara's face hit the dirt and her arm bent in a painful arm lock.

A loud inhuman snarl sounded off, as Alcide burst forward, out of the trees. Cody wasn't far behind.

"No! Stay out of this!" Jannalyn yelled as loud as she could, which wasn't very loud by human standards.

With Tara pinned in a death grip, Alcide could see Jannalyn had control of the situation. It didn't make him feel any better though. He wanted to give in to instinct. He wanted to protect her, but knew he couldn't involve himself or it would be construed as wolves ganging up on a downed vampire. Pam would be forced to protect Tara, other vamps would jump in, and then shit would really hit the fan. The last thing he needed was an all out brawl with vamps at Fangtasia or a rampaging Eric Northman knocking on his door, threatening to eradicate all the wolves in Shreveport. So he paced, twenty feet away, growling and cursing under his breath.

As she held down a struggling vampire, Jannalyn was keenly aware of Alcide's exact location. It didn't help that he was pacing and roaring like a lunatic. It was distracting, and Jannalyn _never_ got distracted during fights. Her eyes snapped over to him, for just a second to see what he was going on about. She couldn't help it. She _needed_ to see...

While the she-wolf was distracted, Tara broke free and attacked once more. With a sweep, Jannalyn had Tara on the ground again. They wrestled and grappled in the grass, moving in supernatural speed one second, then at a human pace the next. Both delivered pulverizing punches, knees, and elbows, but in the end Tara was pinned belly down, with a knee in her lower back as Jannalyn pulled the vampire's top half into a painful angle. Jannalyn had her nails an inch deep into Tara's throat and the other set of nails, impaled the joint at Tara's shoulder.

"Attack me again and I remove a limb." Jannalyn calmly whispered to Tara, then looked up at Pam, who stood mortified. "Is she yours?"

"Yes." Pam and Tara's eyes connected, and for the first time ever, Pam was worried; not for Eric, but for Tara. Regrowth of a limb took a steady diet of blood over a period of a few months, but decapitation was the immediate threat. When Jannalyn dug her nails into the flesh of Tara's throat, the message was abundantly clear. It served as a warning for Pam, an unspoken 'move an inch and I take her head'.

Jannalyn sniffed Tara's hair, but did not loosen her grip on the struggling vampire. "I smell him, in both of you. The blood is the same." Jannalyn curiously looked up to Pam again. "You are _his_ childe, and this is _his_ grandchilde?" Pam nodded and Jannalyn smiled mischievously. "How wonderful. He's a Grandpappy."

Those words reminded Pam of the last full night she and her progeny shared with Eric, before he and Compton disappeared. Pam joked about being a 'baby mama' to a Negro baby vampire and relentlessly called Eric every variation of Grandpa for the remainder of the night. Tara was seen covering her mouth a few times, trying to silence herself, so Eric wouldn't hear her laughing like a loon. Eric was surprisingly gracious about 'his girls' laughing at his expense. Of course, Eric threatened to cut all Pam's credit cards in half if she called him 'Pops or Paw' ever again, but she felt his immense amusement in the bond. Teasing Eric that night, had been the most fun she had in long time, decades actually; and after that disastrous confrontation with Tara's sanctimonious parental unit, Tara received some well-deserved levity and bonding time, too.

Tara stopped fighting altogether; succumbed to the knowledge that she would not get the upper hand and that Pam had no intention of moving against her captor.

"I'll let go, but my condition stands. Attack me again and this arm is mine. We clear?"

Pam nodded at Tara, silently telling her to acquiesce, so she did. After Tara nodded in agreement, a sloshy pop was heard as Jannalyn dislodged bloody fingers from Tara's throat. She helped the young vamp to her feet, and with a fleshy slurp of rearranging tendons, her fingers were pulled out of Tara's shoulder. Tara shrugged the wolf's hands off of her body with a dirty look.

"I apologize for my progeny. She's ill-tempered..." Pam glared at Tara, "and stupid."

Jannalyn grimaced in disgust at her blood soaked hands, which she haphazardly wiped on her clothes. "Bygones. No real harm was done."

"Use the blood to heal yourself." Pam drawled. "I don't mind. Consider it, our peace offering."

"Not necessary, but I accept your offer of peace. Your word is enough."

"Jannalyn." Alcide called out, rushing to the clearing now that the ruckus was done. "Pam. Tara." Alcide greeted with a gruff as he passed both vampires to inspect the scratch on Jannalyn's arm. "I told you, no trouble."

"No trouble here. I'm a friend of the family." Jannalyn explained, with a covert wink to Pam to go along with the downplay of events. "Tara's just a baby, a overzealous mosquito, protecting her Maker."

"Excuse me bitch?" Tara snapped in reply to the derogatory term. Since becoming a vamp, Tara has heard it all; bloodsucker, leech, fanger, and now mosquito? "I got your fuckin' mosquito!" Tara sprung again, but Pam was prepared this time, and faster. In a blur, she had Tara by the hair in the nick of time. Tara's grasping fingers were only inches from Jannalyn's neck.

"Tara! As your Maker, I command you to stand still and keep your fuckin' mouth closed!" And like an eerie game of 'Simon Says', the young vamp froze in place and snapped her mouth shut.

Jannalyn was unimpressed, but her eyes narrowed as she stared Tara down. Alcide was pissed. His orange glowing eyes glared at both vamps. Cody was confused. They were fighting one minute, speaking amicably the next- he just didn't know what was happening.

Pam dramatically sighed, placed her hands on her hips and addressed the wolves. "So, as I was saying. The removal of one pesky vamp and his retinue of three. Name your price."

Jannalyn moved around Tara's extended arms to address Pam face to face. "As a guest in the local Packmaster's home, I must decline. Any involvement on my part would falsely implicate the pack. I'm sure you understand."

"And I'm sure you understand, we never had this conversation." Pamela added, letting Jannalyn know the underlying consequences for sharing their exchange.

"What conversation?" Jannalyn smirked and then, just like a vampire, she bowed her head in a slight tilt. And that shit just unnerved Pam. The she-wolf had way too many vampire mannerisms.

The wolves strolled away through the field, towards a blue pick-up in the parking lot. Alcide hovered close, his eyes darting all over her body as they made their exit.

"I'm fine." Jannalyn rasped reassuringly.

"You never told me the message." Pam called out.

The she-wolf stopped and turned her head to throw words over her shoulder, but the words she whispered, had Pam's knees buckling in shock.

"Berätta för Godric att jag lever. Säg att jag saknar honom." (Tell Godric I live. Tell him, I miss him.)

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><p><strong>Hit the button. Please review!<strong>


	10. The Fur Flies

**A/N: Please don't hate meeeee! I've been a horrible updater, I know, I know! Thanks to all who reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I really appreciate all of your support and FF love. ~L**

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><p><strong> Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Ten: The Fur Flies**

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><p>Fifteen minutes had passed since they left the dimly lit parking lot of Fangtasia, and after the threat to Jannalyn was long behind them, Alcide could finally process the events of the last half hour.<p>

First, when Jannalyn told him to stop the truck...She wanted something and his inner wolf was more than prepared to give it or retrieve it, whatever it was. As a matter of fact, the wolf was ecstatic that she asserted herself and let her desires be known.

Alcide should have questioned the excitement on her face, the happy bouncing of her body in the seat, but he didn't- couldn't. It was the happiest and the most hopeful expression and although he didn't know the cause, he didn't want to take whatever it was, away from her.

Second, his eyes zeroed in on her hand gripping his thigh and his mind turned into a shocked, but pleased puddle of goo as all articulate thought and deductive reasoning skills evaporated. _She_ was touching _him_. On the thigh. Excitedly. A breathy "please" left her lips and his eyes shot over to meet hers; and he couldn't say no, not after seeing the pleading look in her beautiful grey eyes. He caved without much of a fight, and without thinking things through, he was already pulling over.

Third, with her body angled towards his, she explained her intentions- a visit with an ancient vampire she hadn't seen in over five years. Someone important. Someone who saved her went it counted...but those luscious lips were moving and all noise faded to the background. Alcide wasn't paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth, just her warm hand that was inches away from his dick and her moving mouth. He vaguely remembers the plan she laid out, just in case the visit turned ugly.

The visit was uglier than expected.

When Jannalyn fought with Tara, his hands were tied- politically and by custom.

The Pack was already facing possible war with the Blood Claws and they certainly didn't need a war with area vampires. Thankfully, vampire Barbie had enough sense to realize the same and didn't move to help her offspring.

Jannalyn also refused his help and by custom, Alcide's interference would have been frowned upon. Among wolves the request to keep a fight one-on-one was respected and adhered to unless someone jumped in or cheated, and refusing help when fighting a newly turned therefore unpredictable vampire? Well, that was insanity. Especially in Jannalyn's condition. He hated that she took such a risk.

And the icing to the layered clusterfuck of a bullshit cake? Another woman in his life had associations with fangers! Debbie was addicted to the blood, Sookie was apparently _in love_ with any powerful vamp that showed interest, and now Jannalyn seems to have ties to vamps in general, including Eric-fucking-Northman, of ALL people!

Everyone knows Eric Northman does nothing without a hefty repayment. Not to mention, Eric is the epitome of 'manwhore'; that fanger _fell into_ pussy left and right with no prejudice- an equal opportunity fucker. He'd fuck a god damn mermaid if the opportunity presented itself, just for the bragging rights.

And if Eric-fucking-Northman saved her life, he had to wonder what he asked for in return.

Like the jealous, possessive bastard Alcide had become, the memory of the night he found Eric and Sookie in the woods replayed in his head- only Sookie's mewling and submissive image morphed into Jannalyn. Alcide fought to shake the trecherous mental images.

Eric's mouth on Jannalyn...

Eric's cold long fingers reverently caressing her skin...

Eric's pale naked body pressed against hers...

God, he wanted to sob like a heartbroken woman.

No. Alcide had to believe she didn't whore herself to that fanger, but that doesn't mean Eric didn't try... and Eric _is_ a persistent bastard when he feels he's owed. He imagined the vile, perverted things Eric would say in order to tempt her into giving in. _Fuck my life_- Alcide thought, as he gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white.

"What was that back there?" Alcide demanded, restraining the fucking roar of disgust sitting at the back of his throat. "Friend of the family, huh?"

"Yes and I could ask you the same." Jannalyn fired back in a deceptively calm rasp. Although her voice lacked volume, her words indicated she was just as irritated.

"What do you mean? What the hell did_ I_ do?" Alcide growled out.

"All the pacing and roaring. It was such a distraction that I couldn't concentrate. Do you have _any idea_, how difficult it is to pin a bat-shit crazy baby vamp trying to protect her Maker? So, I'll ask again. Why were your boxers in a bunch? Over a fist fight?"

"You call _that_ a fist fight?!" Alcide yelled, "You could have been killed!"

"I do, and only because you distracted me." Jannalyn growled out, heavily annoyed. She crossed her arms over her midsection and tried to make sense of it. She's faced every known kind of distraction in _real_ fights and she always managed to stay focused, but around Alcide...

Cody nearly burst out in laughter at the absurdity of the domestic squabble between the pair, but quickly shut it down when Jannalyn turned her head and glared at him.

"You find this funny? I recall you growling out a few times also. Maybe you could explain?"

In avoidance of scrutinizing grey eyes, Cody became busy with the scenery again. She knew Cody was a dead end; he was probably mirroring his Packmaster's behavior in the field, so she promptly returned her attention to Alcide.

"Start talking. Why were you behaving that way?"

With a growl, Alcide swerved and screeched to a halt on the side of the road.

"I'm not your fuckin' underling! I understand you're pissed, but you'll show me some fuckin' respect!"

"And I'm not pack, so 'Alpha' someone else. I asked for transparency, you said you'd give it, so answer my _fucking_ question."

"And what about you? I'm expected to answer all your questions but you won't answer mine? What kind of bullshit is that?!"

"I never agreed to answer _your_ questions."

A silent stare-off began. For at least two minutes, both just stared at each other, unwilling to bend, unwilling to give in to the feelings that dictated they shouldn't be challenging each other.

"I was concerned for your safety." He finally said without any hint of anger. Alcide pulled onto the road again, to get the night over with already. They'd wasted too much time bickering when they should've already been at the barn.

Jannalyn recognized that he was willing to drop an argument, so she decided to drop her attitude. He was the last person Jannalyn wanted to argue with anyway. But his words sounded like the truth and an omission rolled into one, and Jannalyn wanted to understand. _Gently_- she reminded herself. Most men are horrible at articulating feelings and explaining their actions- this much she had learned.

"Is it residual feelings, from healing?" Jannalyn pressed with a blink and a tilt of her head to study the side of his face. She thought it was a sound explanation for Alcide's protective and clingy behavior, but Alcide didn't confirm or deny it.

Alcide wasn't too keen on telling Jannalyn some mumbo jumbo about being the 'Third Alpha Pair' in all-of-werewolf-history crap. He wanted things to develop naturally between them, not make her feel obligated into settling into a relationship because of what the pack historian suspects. But with the way things were now, he wasn't sure if a relationship would even start. She could just as easily grow tired of the situation and leave, the same as she appeared... and that thought stung worse than a possible romp or two with Northman.

"Because I'm sure Ludwig may have a cure for it."

Alcide flinched. He was positive all the blood drained from his face, but he remained silent and kept his eyes on the road.

"Fine. If you don't care to explain, neither should I."

Jannalyn decided to leave it alone, just in case he needed to process and think. She sat quietly in the truck's cab as the dull throb in her head returned. She opened and closed her mouth a few times with a grimace, trying to stretch the facial muscles to alleviate the soreness settling into the right side of her face.

"Aww, that looks bad." Cody said, while staring at her in concern. "Your jaw is turning black. Cheek bone, too."

"A lot can happen, while _distracted_," she grumbled. It was a petty and redundant jab at both males and she immediately regretted being bitchy. "Bruises heal fast. It'll be gone by this time tomorrow night."

"I heard a lot of cracks back there...you sure you're not hurt anywhere? Maybe we should call Megan to-"

"No. That Tara has a mean left hook...rung my bell a couple of times, but nothing's broken." She was positive she had a few bruised ribs too, but she kept it to herself.

With his eyes glued to the road, Alcide's warm arm snaked around her waist to pull her several inches closer and he wasn't satisfied until they were smashed together, hip to hip.

"How's your head?" he whispered low and gentle, referring to the concussion that's been plaguing her for days.

"Aching, but no more than before" she answered, unwilling to worry him further.

"When we get home, we need to talk."

Home.

He misspoke, because the house in the suburbs of Shreveport was not her home. But she nodded anyway and repressed the anxiety growing in her stomach at the questions he was sure to ask. One question would lead to another, and another, until he didn't want her around anymore. She rested her good cheek against his shoulder to absorb some of the soothing warmth she liked so much, before it was taken away forever, and she stayed there, silently snuggled against his large protective frame to enjoy it while it lasted.

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><p>Pam wanted to explode. According to the twat sitting on the throne- by will of the Authority and the King of Louisiana, Elijah is the new Sheriff and Eric is 'no more'. 'No more' could mean a number of things but that asshole knew what he was implying...and despite repeated questioning, that was all the information he would give.<p>

Pam needed answers, so she followed a vampire into the ladies restroom; a vampire named Justine Baker who recently lost her Maker to a few drainers in New Orleans. The ladies room was full to capacity with human females waiting to urinate or otherwise, not that it mattered to Pam.

"All of you bloodbags, get out!" Unsurprisingly, all filed out except four vampires with the inclusion of Pam.

Justine recently moved to Shreveport to escape the reminders of her Maker's death, so Pam didn't know how to approach the subject, except to ask outright. But to do so would cause a fight or some heavy crying, and although Pam wanted neither, she was prepared to endure it for Eric.

"Baker," Pam greeted, while pulling out a tube of blood red lipstick from her brassiere. "How are... _things_?" Pam asked uncomfortably. She was not accustomed to niceties and small talk with other vamps, but a buffer seemed appropriate. Both women looked at themselves in the mirrors, adjusting and applying make-up.

"Better," Justine answered while dusting on some eye shadow, "and you?"

"Horrible. Eric is missing."

"So I've heard." The red-headed vampire swept clear gloss over her lips. "I'm sure Northman will return."

"How can you be certain?" Pam blurted, causing Justine to shift her eyes towards Pam. "I haven't felt or heard from him in several nights. How do I know if he's...if he's..."

The red-haired vamp turned and spoke in a low voice. "You would have_ known_ if your Maker met true death."

"How?" Pam could see it coming, the blood tears forming in Baker's eyes.

"You would _feel_ it. I can only describe it as a painful flood of intense emptiness, a hollowness felt throughout the entire body at the exact moment the connection through the blood is severed. It's unmistakable and immediate. You would _know_ without any uncertainty."

"In the blood? But I'm a new Maker. What about..."

"His Maker and first generation progeny would feel it, but second generation-like your Tara-would be oblivious."

_Thank the fucking heavens_- Pam thought. "Um, thanks," Pam nodded awkwardly, "and my condolences." She promptly left the ladies to room to give Baker some privacy and to call Eric once more.

When big shit went down, the first three cell numbers for Eric were generally treated as compromised, so Pam said very little other than the usual when leaving messages. "Eric, this is Pam again. You remember, your progeny? Anyhow, I haven't heard from you. Call me." Pam hung up the office line and closed her eyes, grumbling about her wayward Maker. If vampires could have headaches, she would have one.

If the Authority sequestered Eric for God knows what, she knew her cellphone was probably being tapped, so she had Ginger procure a new disposable cellphone to use for the next call. Pam dialed Eric's fourth cellphone number, which is also a disposable and untraceable line, her last resort in making contact with her Maker. Even if he had the cellphone hidden away, the line would still record voicemail that Eric could check when the time and the situation allowed. Just as predicted, the line went straight to voicemail. With gritted teeth, Pam pinched the bridge of her nose and spoke into the phone.

"Are _all_ of your fingers broken? Or did you temporarily _lose your mind_ again and forget about me completely? It is imperative that you return this call. There's a fucktard claiming to be the new Sheriff and he's parked his very flat and unattractive ass on your throne. Tell me if there's any truth to this and how to handle him. Also, a furry little friend stopped by and nearly took Tara's head. Our visitor's name is Jannalyn and she left a message for the _Old One_. Have _any_ idea to whom she's referring? Dial back on this number."

No sooner than she hit the end button, she felt Tara lingering closer as Makers can generally sense the proximity of a childe. "Oh for crying out loud, Tara. What is it now?" she irritably bellowed over the thrumming bass line of the music in the background.

Tara glanced into the office. "You busy?" Pam raised an eyebrow and with a tilt of her head, she motioned for Tara to come in. Moving slowly, Tara timidly walked into the room and sat across from Pam, barely making eye contact. "You know what? It's stupid. I should probably get back to work." Tara got up from her seat and zipped out of the room, but Pam had other plans.

"Stop. Come back here. Now." Pam ordered with a drawl, knowing her childe couldn't disobey. "If you're gonna interrupt, you might as well speak your piece while you have my attention."

Tara slowly made her way back to the seat, warily eyeing her Maker. Pam's blue eyes stared Tara down, until she spoke.

"Why do you hate me? I mean, I thought we'd be more like you and...never mind. Like I said, it's stupid."

Pam secretly admired Tara's ferocity and confidence as a human and believed she would make an impressive vampire. That was the only reason she agreed to turn her, but those qualities were gone right now, replaced with cowering insecurity. Pam knew she was the reason her childe felt this way and guilt raged in Pam's undead heart, but she quickly stomped it down.

"Don't be ridiculous." Pam began harshly and then she looked away. "I don't hate you. Actually, it's quite the opposite."

"I can't tell." Tara mumbled. Loneliness and the sharp sting of rejection flooded the bond between them, making Pam gasp with the immensity of it.

"Look, Tara, you need to get that shit under control!" Pam calmed herself and tried, _tried_ to be patient. "I feel your train wreck of emotions- constantly. It's like a being on a rickety roller coaster... only, I'd rather be puking... or losing a limb... whichever. Both even." Pam paused to assess the verbal vomit that just left her mouth and decided to start over. "My point is, we are both under a fuckton of stress and I'm not exactly pleasant under a lot of it."

"You ain't kidding." Tara thought she detected an apology in those words and was surprised Pam attempted one, at all. She was also appalled at Pam's description of her emotions, but it was also the funniest, most preposterous thing she had heard all night. She had to feel Pam's emotions too. The constant worry over Eric was grating her nerves down to nothing, but she wasn't complaining. Unlike her strung tight Maker.

"Anyone ever tell you, how emotionally retarded you are?" Tara asked with a straight face, with a little bit of sass and it was vaguely familiar to Pam.

A strange elation settled in, when Pam realized what her childe was doing. Emulating her.

"It's in the blood, sugar lips. My Maker, for example, is also emotionally retarded." Pam smirked and let out an unneeded breath at finally feeling mirth and humor in the bond. "Enough of the girl talk for now. We have a bar to run."

Both quickly went back to their assigned posts, before Elijah noticed and had another conniption.

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><p>Within the hour, a zeroed out number flashed across the green screen of the cheap disposable cellphone. Pam zipped to the clearing in the adjacent lot, to avoid being overheard.<p>

"Eric?" she answered, the concern evident in her voice.

"Pamela," Eric's smooth voice was like a bucket of water in a drought, "are you alright?"

"Yes" she answered, her bottom lip trembled in relief.

"I only have a few minutes, so I'll be quick. To address my absence, the Authority detained the King and I for questioning, concerning the circumstances surrounding Nan Flanagan's disappearance. Nan's last known whereabouts was with us at the Compton mansion, so of course, we were the likely suspects. The Authority has concluded their investigation, however, it doesn't mean we're in the clear.

As of the present, I am required to participate in the planning of the Royal Summit and I'm uncertain when I'll be done. Jessica is the acting Queen in Bill's absence and Elijah is filling in as Sheriff, temporarily. My initial choice was you, however, Bill overruled my decision and ordered that I chose another."

"But why not choose Cornelius or Oswalt? Anyone but Elijah."

"Cornelius and Oswalt are Makers again. Elijah has yet to make a vampire, therefore, his attention isn't divided. He's a cocky prick, but overall, he's pretty harmless."

"Harmless? He threw me across the god damn bar like a fuckin' ragdoll and thanks to that soon-to-be bleeding cunt, my progeny suffers from separation anxiety!"

"Enough. Under no circumstances are you to act against him. In different circumstances, he would be punished for the act of aggression against you, but with the position, however temporary, he _must_ be ruthless, just as I would expect from you. Now, tell me of this visitor, verbatim. I need specifics."

In supernatural speed, Pam relayed the events in order; the strangeness of it all- the dialogue, the fight with Tara, and all the Swedish parts.

"I'm confused Eric. Who is she to you, exactly? And she never said your name, only Godric's at the end. I thought she was pouring salt into the wound at first, but then I realized she sought an audience with Godric all along."

"She would _not_ want to see me." Eric seemed angry and sad about it, at the same time. The line went silent for a moment but Pam could hear Eric drumming fingers on a table- something he did while in deep thought or while trying to maintain composure. "She goes by Jannalyn Bannister, Godric's former companion and nest mate for over a year."

"How sweet." Pam snarked. "Your Maker had a pet."

"She was _no_ pet!" Eric grounded out, angered by his progeny's incessant and annoying commentary.

There was a pause on the line again and Pam kept her mouth closed. All this talk of Godric was obviously upsetting her Maker and it was the least of her intentions.

"I thought the same once...and upon addressing her as such, Godric responded with an immediate and severe correction. The rejection and estrangement that followed...was difficult..." Eric had grown completely quiet again, lost in the memories of Godric she presumed.

"Like you and I," Pam gulped back the knot of emotion caught in her throat, "over Sookie?" She couldn't help the bitterness in her voice as a lone blood tear rolled down her cheek.

Ever since Pam fired a missile at the Moon Goddess Emporium against Eric's wishes, there's been a rift between them- especially after Eric threatened to 'kill her' over that ridiculous and seemingly wholesome faerie hybrid with the magically addictive vagina. The rift wasn't always obvious; there were pleasant moments between them like the night she 'presented' Tara as her progeny- the same night she teased him for being a grandfather, but Pam felt the divide. They had grown further apart since that night at Moon Goddess, or rather, he's grown apart from her.

If Eric fell out of good graces with Godric once and knew how it felt, why was it so hard to forgive her? His blood? His childe? She ached for things to return to how they were. Didn't he know how much it hurt? To be Mother, Sister, and Childe for nearly a century, then in the course of a single year, become _secondary_ to the well-being of a waitress breather?

"You know, I failed to see it before, the parallels." Eric sighed into the phone. "I've been blind."

The acknowledgment was the closest Pam would get to an apology from Eric and it made her feel better- optimistic that her relationship with Eric wasn't crumbling away to nothing. He loves her still and that's all that matters. She nodded into the phone, wiping the tear from her face.

Eric cleared his throat. "Listen carefully," Eric began, going back into 'business mode'. Pam's guess was that the conversation had grown too emotional or he was running out of time. "Miss Bannister is considered a danger to all vampire under the quincentenary year. She may seem amicable, but do not be fooled- her loyalties only extended to Godric and now that he's gone..." Eric would never give random and unfounded warnings, and it sent her panicking.

"Five hundred? How is that possible?" Pam began to pace at the idiocy of her progeny and at the true danger both faced.

"She's a rarity among therians. I can't cover all the details right now, but she is one of three in the entire world able to detect distinct bloodlines among vampires. She must have assumed Godric was near when she caught your...For the love of Odin, please tell me, you _did not_ inform her about his passing."

"I didn't. I was too busy freakin' the fuck out at all the vampire mannerisms."

"Good. I need to think on how to approach her with the news." Eric muttered obscenities in Swedish. "She'll surely have my fangs. When she visits again-"

"Your fangs?" That shit did not sound pleasant and for Eric to be worried- wait. What did he say? "What do you mean by _when_?" Pam asked incredulously.

"You heard correctly, Pamela._ When_. When she visits again, mention nothing of Godric and intercept those who would. I'll call you again in a few nights. And Pamela?"

"Yes?"

"Hide your progeny. Miss Bannister will be back for that arm."

* * *

><p><em>"The golden and silver fish haunted the river, out of the bosom of which issued, little by little, a murmur that swelled, at length, into a lulling melody more divine..." Jannalyn's brows crumpled as she pressed the opened book to her chest. "Why do you make me do this?" she asked with an exhausted lupine yawn. Waking earlier meant she began sleeping at night, a completely different sleep schedule from what she was accustomed.<em>

_"Please continue, Jannalyn. Remember to be mindful of volume and pitch." Godric wore a smug smile. From listening to her voice over the last few months, he knew the difference between her normal voice and her sleepy voice, and as it stood, she was minutes from slumber._

_Jannalyn closed the book. She rolled to her side and propped her head on one of the many lavish pillows littering the floor. _

_"I've been at this for months. My range will never be over a loud whisper. So why, Godric? Why make me do this?"_

_It wasn't a complaint, she'd do anything for Godric, but she wanted to understand the logic behind the nightly readings, which barely produced results. Her eyes swept over his deceptively young features and awaited his reply._

_A pale hand reached to touch Jannalyn's neck, stopping just short of actually touching her. "May I?" he asked. She knew he wanted to inspect the surgeon's handiwork, so she lifted the long chestnut hair draped over her neck, giving him access. Cool finger tips gently traced the surgical scar going down the length of her throat and he sighed. He quickly corrected the sadness into optimism._

_"You may not hear the difference, but I do. It pleases me to hear an improvement with each passing night. What a glory it is to witness strength reborn with practice."_

_"You're a horrible liar, Godric, but thank you." Jannalyn gave him a small smile and yawned again. She took his hand and held it, weaving their fingers together. "I'm sorry, but I'm really tired. It seems I'm no longer nocturnal."_

_With a kiss to his palm, she bid Godric a good night, and lifted her tired body from the floor. In a flash, Godric swept her up in his arms to carry her to bed, as he often did when she fell asleep during reading._

_"I'm still awake, Godric. You don't have to carry me tonight."_

_"I know you are capable as your back is nearly healed, but appease an old vampire?" He gave a boyish smile and made a slow procession through the house, carrying Jannalyn to her bedroom anyway. Without protest, she rested her cheek on his shoulder, as her lids and body grew heavy. "Sleep, my dear one, sleep. Tomorrow, we leave Urland for Texas."_

"Hey, Jannalyn. We're here."

Jannalyn blinked a few times and snapped out of the memory, still pressed against Alcide in the truck's cab. Briefly looking around, she found they were stopped right outside of a barn. A soft light and hushed voices emanated from within. Cody got out and shut the door, leaving the two after his Packmaster gave a dismissive nod.

"Where'd ya go just now?" Alcide asked in a low gruff voice. A wrinkle formed between her brows, so he elaborated. "Seemed like you spaced out for a few minutes. You sure, you're okay?" Alcide gently grabbed her chin to gauge the honesty and lucidity in her eyes, but immediately grimaced at the purplish-black bruises on the side of her face.

She dodged his inspection and an exasperated "I'm fine" left her lips, then she moved to let herself out. It was time to get the questioning of the adolescents out of the way.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Love it? Hate it? Let a chick know, by hitting that button!**


	11. Blurry

**A/N: Again, thanks to all who followed and reviewed! I hope all of you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Eleven: Blurry**

* * *

><p>Cody was so engrossed in story telling, that he was blissfully unaware of Alcide and Jannalyn listening at the barn door.<p>

"And then, this fanger came runnin' and she-"

"Got in a fist fight." Jannalyn butted in, eyeing the young men who stilled and slowly turned in her direction. "The end."

Cody shivered at the finality of those words. He could tell from her tone she didn't like being the subject of gossip, so he hung his head and avoided her eyes as she strolled in without their Packmaster. The other boys glanced in her direction only to avert their eyes just as quickly. All stilled and quieted, following the behavior of their older pack brother.

Jannalyn stared at the adolescents, scrutinizing each one, beginning with Cody to stop at Troy. She wanted to greet the youngest so bad- the instinctual urge to scent and 'mother' the baby of the pack was strong, but she restrained herself. She wasn't pack and besides, the younger the wolf, the more scared they seemed to be of her, of her skin.

_Too young for war_- she thought. Despite their human ages, their wolves were immature and undisciplined...under-trained and insecure. She could sense it and did not like it.

"Now that you boys are done gossipin' like a bunch of old betties at the salon, Jannalyn has some questions." Alcide announced at the barn door.

He'd been watching her, as usual, and wasn't surprised at Jannalyn's ability to gain the full attention of several young wolves, with seven raspy words. She didn't even have to growl. There wasn't a single peep of smart mouthin' from the normally rambunctious and twitchy youngsters, but Jannalyn seemed to be uncomfortable. She stood with her arms crossed, her scarred hands hidden from view. Alcide casually strolled over to stand next to her, hoping to ease some of her discomfort.

"Bert will be here in a minute." It was a gentle whisper and the boys took notice. They'd only known their Packmaster to use commanding tones since his ascension, and before, when he was with Debbie, his tone was usually one of exasperation or of indifference.

"Bert?" Jannalyn asked.

"Albert Monroe, pack historian. He led the run last night when Cody here, crossed into Blood Claw territory." Alcide explained.

Jannalyn's crossed arms dropped to her sides. She growled, long and low in Cody's direction. "Is this true? You started this?" Cody nodded to the ground, but Jannalyn walked forward, roughly grabbed his chin, and forced him to meet her eyes. She looked angry like Alcide had been, but in her eyes, he could see the concern swimming in the deep grey pools and it made Cody feel worse. "Answer me." She watched as his eyes watered in remorse and a shaky 'yes' left his lips.

"Don't be too hard on the boy." Bert called out, making his presence known with a clap of the barn door. "He's paid for the mistake. Bit him myself. Twice."

"Bert, Jannalyn. Jannalyn, Bert." Alcide's introduction made Bert do a double take, and as a slow smile appeared on Bert's wrinkled face, Alcide nodded a discreet 'no'. Bert understood. Alcide hadn't told Jannalyn yet.

Now that Bert had arrived, Jannalyn began firing away questions. As her questions were answered, her eyes narrowed in suspicion and her hands clenched in frustration, the entire time.

Alcide did not like how Bert's eyes constantly drifted down to Jannalyn's neck, obviously staring at the scars of old wounds that should've killed her. This was the reaction Jannalyn spoke of- this is what made her hide the scars even though she wasn't ashamed- the constant staring and awkward glances.

The boys fared a little better. They would glance at her feet, and at her hands when they were visible, but most were staring at the smears of vampire blood on the zip up sweat jacket.

The men scheduled for patrol were getting antsy. Alcide could hear them shuffling around outside, probably listening, definitely sniffing... trying to identify Jannalyn's scent.

"I'll be outside, speakin' to the men."

* * *

><p>"Outside! Now!" Sam yelled. Sookie wasn't backing down and Sam doubted that he could hold back the weretiger any longer.<p>

"Hmph!" Sookie turned on a heel and marched her tiny ass out the front door of Merlotte's to stand outside in the dimly lit parking lot, with dainty hands on hips, glaring at Quinn through the large window.

Sam's mouth dropped open. Was she really waiting for Quinn to come out? Sookie's next words almost floored the shifter.

"C'mon out and explain it to me, or are you pussy?" And then a lone challenging brow went up. _Oh dear God_...Was she really calling him out?

"Why that little..." Quinn snarled, then moved around Sam at an abnormal speed for a man of 280lbs. He was out the door and advancing on Sookie before Sam could intervene.

"Holy shit." Sookie muttered, when she saw his glowing purple eyes behind dark sunglasses, quickly closing in. She backed up just as fast, step for step and staggering, but Quinn's strides were longer and he was catching up.

Every tendon in his neck and the veins in his arms were visibly straining. Quinn was shaking in fury, blurring almost. Sookie's arms extended to protect herself, and a burst of light exploded from her palms, throwing Quinn several yards into the air...but what she saw next, scared the living daylights out of her.

Fifteen feet in the air, Quinn's form exploded into a tiger-a giant Bengal Tiger. The exploding shift sent scraps of clothing everywhere as it rained down from the sky. He landed on his paws despite being thrown by faerie light and gravel slung around as he skidded to a stop. Within half a second, he crouched and charged with a roar, all teeth and claws, approaching fast. Quinn pounced and tackled Sookie, knocking the wind from her body with his weight, his three inch long incisors going straight for the jugular before she even had a chance to scream.

Then everything faded to black.

* * *

><p>Other than everyone's preoccupation with her appearance, all of the stories matched no matter the tactics she used to try to trip them up. No one meant to wage war- it was an honest and amateur mistake, easily committed by any wolf in their first few years.<p>

Bert had just as many questions for Jannalyn, none of which went answered. He wanted to know which pack raised her and if she wasn't raised by pack, what territory she originated. All she could do was ignore him, because she didn't have any answers to give, not any that Bert would appreciate in any way. After she completely ignored a few questions, Bert gave up his line of questioning, only to ask if she had any intention of staying within the territory. She gave a vague response. "Depends."

She left Bert and the adolescents in the barn to wait for Alcide outside, trying to get away from the inquisitive old man and to inform Alcide of her decision. She would help with training, however, there were stipulations.

First, she would teach them her way. If Alcide or the others didn't like her methods, they were on their own. Second, she would teach them from afar. Under no circumstances would she spar with anyone because of the danger it posed if she were accidentally hurt. Third, Cody and the adolescents would be present. She-wolves are naturally reluctant to fight male wolves, so the adolescents made perfect sparring partners.

Using the boys as sparring partners also gave Jannalyn an opportunity to teach the young males a thing or two. Although, she'd never admit it, there was a soft spot developing for Troy- a boy she'd only known for a hot half hour. Mothering and nurturing instincts aside, his boyish features reminded her of Godric.

Alcide was shirtless, standing with his back turned, in a semi-circle with the other men who were disrobing, talking about the upcoming run. She listened as Alcide went over the rules for those who hadn't ran in a while. She listened as Alcide told the men he planned to push them to their physical limits, that the run took the adolescents almost seven hours, that he expected their time to be half.

As Alcide spoke and disrobed along side of other men, he could feel her eyes on his body. He wondered what she thought of him, of his physique, wondered if she was attracted in anyway. He knew he had a nice body, but not all women are attracted to bulk and muscle. Some preferred a leaner variety of male, someone not as intimidating...she might prefer blondes for all he knew. _Like fuckin' Northman_- his insecure mind reminded. The thought stung, but he shrugged it off. He was not going to dwell on something that may not even be true. Besides, women don't like jealous pricks and that's exactly how he'd been acting.

And then his phone rang. All went silent when Alcide answered. It was Sam, the shifter, rambling on about a fight at a bar and a passed out Sookie, to which Alcide made no comment.

"_And there's more. Alcide, I'm sorry man, but I have some bad news about the chick I brought to your house. She's the Ripper, Alcide, from the Pits._" Sam's voice seemed to echo out of the phone and it seemed that all heads turned and eyes went to Jannalyn, including Alcide's.

Jannalyn wanted to be the one to tell him- on her own terms and at her own pace, but now, it was an opportunity missed. She wanted to fold into herself, especially at how Alcide was looking at her- with shock, betrayal, maybe a little disgust. She could see the difference in his eyes; it seemed the cloud of lust and concern dissipated, and for the very first time, they were hard and cold.

"_If I had known...I'd never bring that kind of danger to your house, Alcide. You know that. I'm sorry, man._"

"It's alright, Sam. I'll call you later." Alcide's voice had gone monotone, like a robot speaking words into the receiver.

"_Hold on,_" Sam's desperate tone stopped Alcide's thumb from clapping the phone shut.

"Yeah," Alcide prompted, his steady gaze still settled on Jannalyn's unmoving form.

"_There's a weretiger looking for her, by the name of John Quinn. He's the one who just put Sookie on her ass._"

Jannalyn's eyes screwed shut with a grimace. _Damn you, John_- she mentally grumbled. The weretiger always seemed to show up when it was least convenient. John, the most persistent person she knew, knew all of Jannalyn's reasons for roaming the country as she did, but it didn't stop the tiger from tracking her down on occasion and asking her to stay with him.

And now he's obliged someone in a fight, a Sookie character, and John rarely fought nowadays, usually choosing to diffuse and make nice. Something had to be eating at him. Maybe Mama Quinn's mental state took another dive, or worse, maybe his little sister, Frannie, started showing signs of the gene. She couldn't think of anything else that could make him lose his cool.

When she opened her eyes, Alcide's glare almost made her cringe. Almost. He was judging her, for the various things he's heard, she just knew it.

"I'll call you back later." Alcide clapped his phone shut, slowly moving towards Jannalyn, mindful to not startle her. The other men flanked Alcide in a perfect V formation; eyes glowing, tense and ready, just in case they were needed.

Jannalyn fought to stay still, fighting the urge to crouch into a defensive position. If she moved, they could attack and that was the last thing she wanted.

Seven men.

The Beast, Jannalyn's alternate personality, was prepared to take over- to lock the memory of this fight away the second it starts. The darkness drifted closer to the surface. Watching...waiting for any aggressive movement. This body would survive, the Beast would make sure of it.

Alcide and six more.

She had a hard enough time with five.

The last time, she fought six and she barely made it out alive. She didn't want to kill those wolves in Atlanta, so she fled. They were the ones who chased her down like prey, they were ones who wouldn't give up, and when they cornered her, she did what she had to do.

The Beast had already set her sights on the two weakest men in the group, both behind Alcide's left shoulder. If she took them out first, it would make the number more manageable.

_No. Run. A straight line through the trees into the neutral zone. We can't kill anymore. No more._ Jannalyn was trying to reason with the darkness lurching forward, rocking further and further to the surface.

"Uh-uh. You fuckers back off." It was Bert, the old man, saving the day by acting as interference. He was smart enough to know that no one, let alone the Ripper, would appreciate an outnumbered standoff, and it was no way to become acquainted with the Packmistress apparent. "Let these two figure it out. Now go on, back up." Bert extended his arms, as if to herd the men away from the two. "I ain't gonna say it again." The old man nodded towards the cornfield a few hundred yards out. "Go on."

Bert raised a few of the wolves, so they knew the old man wasn't playin' around. Bert may sound calm, but his wolf would bite your ass in a heartbeat and bite you again if you dare question it.

With a long look at their Packmaster, who hadn't ordered any to stay, the men dropped to fours and strolled away as wolves to wait in the field. Bert gathered the clothing left behind, shook out the grass and hay, then piled the articles of clothing in the crook of an arm.

Alcide and Jannalyn were staring at each other, three feet apart, unmoving, and barely breathing. The tension was so thick that it was felt inside the barn, causing the adolescents to inadvertently shift. They began to let out long whines and whimpers of nervousness as they pawed and scratched at the barn door.

Bert tried to guess what the pair were thinking, but he pushed the curiosity aside to give sound advice before retreating to the barn to calm the adolescents.

"You listen to your wolf, Alcide."

And Alcide was listening, alright. The wolf knew she was dangerous, knew all along, but couldn't be compelled to think he was in any danger. Alcide's rational mind tried to reconcile why his wolf didn't give two shits about Jannalyn being The Ripper, an accusation she had yet to deny. His wolf showed him a memory in vivid detail; her cheek brushing against chest muscle, the sniff, the low rumble of contentment that morphed into a lupine yawn...

_I know, I know, mate nuzzled us._

The wolf felt the man in Alcide resisting, so he showed him the night they met. Alcide missed it that night, but his wolf didn't- the sheer panic in her eyes as she said her own name- and Alcide finally understood why she winced. Her name was a ticking time bomb, sure to bring a nasty reception as soon as the dots were connected.

"I understand why you didn't tell me."

Jannalyn's frantic mind came to screeching halt and she gulped. "You do?"

"Yeah," Alcide's large hand raked through his hair and he sighed. "I was the one who said that it was your business, that you could tell me if you wanted. I can't be mad that you wanted a clean start here." The wolf quickly showed him when she exposed her neck in the kitchen when she was hurt- the complete submission and trust during her most vulnerable state...she trusted him, or wanted to, and Alcide knew that her trust was hard earned.

"I..." Jannalyn looked confused again, "you're not telling me to leave?"

"No." Everything else made sense too. He finally understood what she meant by interrogations and favors, why her eyes clouded over when she spoke of the last pack she came across, and why she thanked him for 'not asking'. The confusion on her face every time someone was kind to her... how she seemed to be more comfortable around vampires than their own kind...it all made sense now. And it pissed him off.

"But you're angry." There had to be an angle, some hidden agenda. She just had to wait and see.

"Yes and no. I mean, not at you. Just, how I heard. I guess, I didn't want to know." And the fact that you're defensive and confused again. He wondered if any of their kind were ever nice to her and based on her reaction of careful suspicion, he knew the answer. He hated knowing the answer. "Just tell me somethin', the weretiger, is he trouble?"

"No," she answered quickly, "not usually. And he won't be."

"But is it all true? What I've heard about you?"

"Most of what I hear about myself is true in some way," Jannalyn paused and appeared to be thinking, "except the rumor of being a hitman assassin, that part isn't true. Maybe a few other rumors, but I don't know what you've heard. My story changes from territory to territory."

"Among the gossips, but it doesn't change in our histories!" the old man called out from inside of the barn.

Alcide rolled his eyes. "C'mon out here, Bert."

"Can't. These pups are actin' a fool right now. If I open this door, they'll come barreling out."

"Just come out, they'll be fine."

Jannalyn stared at Alcide, trying to figure out why he would allow the adolescents to be in her presence now. Most other Packmasters kept the young ones away, upon finding out her identity.

No sooner than Bert opened the door, four adolescent wolves clumsily dog piled in the door way, letting out yelps of pain and frustration at falling on each other. Bert chuckled as he stepped over the heap of wolves to stand with the pair. The youngsters managed to get their bearings and were slowly exiting the barn, nervously dancing around with bobbing heads and attentive ears turned forward while keeping a respectful distance. They were curious but apprehensive, a normal reaction to meeting the woman of stories told around campfires- the killer of two-natured and vampires alike. What they heard had to be true, she was already wearing vampire blood.

"Boys." Alcide growled out, a warning to behave themselves, and then he promptly turned to Bert with a critical eye. "So, she's in the histories, huh?"

"Yes siree." Bert sang in a country drawl. "The Ripper has been in our histories for at least fifteen years now. Every historian from every pack, we all speculate your origins, Jannalyn. You are one of our kind's great mysteries." He turned to Alcide, who looked like he didn't believe a word coming out of Bert's mouth. "You are in our histories, Alcide, how can she not be?"

"Me? Why am I in the histories?" Alcide realized his mistake, as soon as he asked. Of course he was in the histories, now that Bert suspected they were the Third Alpha Pair.

Bert smiled wide. "All Packmasters are recorded, wars, treaties, alliances with other supes...we record everything and exchange the accumulated information from pack historian to pack historian."

"If Jannalyn's story changes from territory to territory, how accurate can it be?" Alcide asked, a skeptic through and through.

"We can't go around correctin' gossip. That's not our job. But I can assure you- by oath, every pack historian is obligated to be unbiased when recording and sharing facts. We only record what we can confirm." The old man turned to Jannalyn and gave her a warm smile. "There are gaps in your story, young lady. Would ya mind going over the book with me? For the sake of accuracy?"

Jannalyn stared at Bert like he'd grown a second head, then turned her gaze to Alcide. What was happening here? Was this all a manipulation? Why were they being so...nice? Pulses don't lie; both Alcide and Bert were calm, nor could she detect a single ounce of deceit. Neither seemed angry either. She felt like she was dreaming or stuck in an alternate universe, stuck in a perpetual state of 'opposite day'.

"Accuracy will have to wait. I've got women to train, that is...if Alcide still wants it."

"Are you sure you're up for it? I mean, can I trust you?" Alcide felt it was a valid question, because even Ludwig was careful in Jannalyn's presence, but neither Alcide nor Bert, missed her reaction to the lack of trust. Her shoulders slumped, just a fraction of an inch.

"Yes and yes, but I have conditions."

She was positive her conditions would be altered but Alcide quickly agreed, as all of her terms seemed reasonable after she explained. However, he managed to give his own condition- the ability to stand in and watch as he pleased. He promised no interference, so long as no one was permanently hurt during training.

"Of course, your pack after all."

"Bert, drop Jannalyn and Cody at the house."

"But I thought I was training-"

"It can wait 'til mornin'. You're due for medicine and everything inside of me, tells me you need rest. You've had a long day." Alcide grabbed Jannalyn by the waist to pull her in for a quick sniff. "I'll be home in a few hours," he whispered to the top of her head. He dropped his jeans and with a shimmer, his white wolf strolled to the cornfield to join the waiting wolves- all intently watching her from the cornstalks with glowing eyes.

Stunned, Jannalyn stood in the same spot, long after Alcide and the others began their run. She stayed stationary until she couldn't hear the combined trot of their padded footsteps anymore. They were moving away at an incredible pace; going on patrol, and again, since her arrival in Shreveport territory, she was confused out of her mind by Alcide's actions, or rather, the lack of the expected reaction of rejection and violence.

None of her interactions with packs had ever been this easy. Internally, every alarm was going off, not because she felt she was in danger, but because nothing was making sense at the moment.

"You okay there, Jannalyn?" Bert asked, concerned because she was too quiet and still, like a statue. Several of the adolescents switched in concern and tried to approach, but Bert wouldn't allow it. Even an old bachelor like him knew when a lady needed breathing space.

"Why-" she began, but didn't finish. She couldn't formulate questions if she tried. She didn't know where to begin.

"Jannalyn, hun, let's get you home."

Home. That foreign sounding word had Jannalyn snapping her head toward the old man. Three times. Three times that word was used tonight.

Bert slowly moved to her side, gently took her arm, and led her towards his old Cadillac.

* * *

><p>"Sweetheart! I told you, stop tearing up your room!"<p>

Emma, only eight years old, was suffering from extreme anxiety at nightfall and whenever Emma panicked -poof- fur sprouted.

Luna didn't know the gene could activate this early- it was usually triggered by the hormonal changes of puberty, but it seemed the stresses of the last few days must have triggered the early onset.

Her house looked like a tornado hit; pillows and seat cushions were shredded, knickknacks were smashed, rugs were clawed, along with the walls and doors. Most of Emma's dolls were missing limbs and every time Emma destroyed another doll by using it as a chew toy- the howling, whining, and whimpering that followed- Luna couldn't console Emma or her wolf no matter what she did...

Luna was losing her mind.

Luna was also avoiding Sam's calls, not only because her feelings were still hurt over what he said at the bar, but because she knew she couldn't keep this secret from him much longer. As her mate, Sam had every right to know, but if she spilled the beans about Emma's early induction into wolf life, the news would get back to the pack, and Luna didn't want pack life for Emma.

Martha Bozeman would be doing back flips at the news. Luna could see it now, Martha demanding time on some bullshit 'wolfy claim' as a grandparent. But look at the child she raised...a lazy, child beating manslut...no fucking way was she letting the old coot near her daughter.

It was just a couple of years ago, that Luna witnessed the real Marcus Bozeman and the horrors of pack life. There was a boy in a local group home, maybe thirteen, that Marcus had his eye on. Marcus kept pressing the boy to join, even though he wasn't old enough to pledge, and when the boy gave an answer Marcus didn't appreciate, Marcus and Nate strung him up in the garage and used their fists on a child- beat the boy into submission.

She interfered; cut the boy's restraints, and curled up on the concrete with him to shield his body with her own. She earned several cracked ribs, a busted lip and brow that night, and to this day, she's still unsure if the boy survived the night.

For years, she dealt with all the infidelity and disrespect, but harming a child with such enthusiasm, using his position as a means to abuse and intimidate, it was the last straw. The following day, she drove to the courthouse to file for divorce and full custody of Emma. She also filed domestic abuse charges and obtained a temporary order of protection so she and Emma could move out of his home under the watchful gaze of human police officers.

What's worse is that pack behavior is dictated and learned from Packmasters. There was no doubt that Alcide was a good guy and completely justified in ending Marcus' miserable existence, but there was no way the new Packmaster could completely erase the marks left by Marcus on the young ones; young ones who would have dominion over Emma, the ones she would eventually emulate.

Her cellphone began to ring. A single glane told her it was Sam again. With her lids pressed closed, she ignored the five rings until it went to voicemail.

* * *

><p>"Dammit Luna, I said I was sorry. Will you please call me back? This is important," Sam wanted to tell Luna that Sookie was passed out on his couch, but after finding the shredded shirt left in scraps in the trash, he decided it was probably best to not leave such a message. Fuck, his ass was grass. Maybe the weretiger's scent would be enough to convince Luna that Sam didn't do anything inappropriate with Sook. "Just call me." And with a dread filled grumble, Sam hung up.<p>

"Did you have to call the local Packmaster?" Quinn didn't like how Sam Merlotte demonized Jannalyn over the phone and was still pissed that the shifter turned lion to save some faerie brat from getting her head torn off. The shifting of another big cat was enough to shake Quinn from a rage induced haze, enough to divert his attention nanoseconds before clamping down around Sookie's neck.

"Yes, I did. Did you have to do this?" Sam gestured towards the couch to his right, where Sookie was laying. She was belly down, stirring but oblivious, with gravel imbedded in her back, elbows, and thighs.

"Fuck her." Quinn growled. "You act like you didn't see it, she challenged me!"

"She's a hybrid, maybe an eighth faerie! She doesn't even know what a challenge is!" Sam argued.

"Yeah, she's an eighth- ever seen what a full blooded faerie can do? What they really look like? How was I supposed to know?"

"It ain't her fault. She grew up human."

"And it's not my fault no one taught her better." Quinn huffed. "You claim to be her friend, why haven't you told her about our ways?"

"I've tried, but she doesn't listen to anyone. You seen it, she seems to do the exact opposite anyway." Sam scratched at the back of his neck, frustrated at the whole situation. A situation that could've been avoided, had Sookie listened in the first place.

"Then that makes her stupid. Fuckin' Darwin Award is due to that one." Quinn jutted his chin out in her direction, without a ounce of remorse for laying her out. "Does she touch hot stoves repeatedly, too?"

"Fuck you." Sookie muttered with a groan, still dazed but pissed. She heard the weretiger's comment and didn't appreciate the slam to her intelligence.

"Apparently, she does." He quipped with a huff. "Fuck me, huh? You wish, little girl, and if you know what's good for you, you better stay out of my head."

* * *

><p>Seven wolves, undetected and approaching fast from the northwest, are only thirty minutes away and headed straight to Sam. The sound of heavy paws pounding into the forest floor was muffled, almost deadened by the thick, natural barrier surrounding the Merlotte property- the trees. Neither Sam nor Quinn could hear the chorus of snarls in the distance or the snapping jaws of the wolf in lead.<p>

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><p><strong>AN: Love it? Hate it? Something you'd like to see? Let me know!**


	12. Perspective

**A/N: Merry Christmas fanfiction! And to all of the readers from elsewhere in the world- Happy Holidays!**

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><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Twelve: Perspective**

* * *

><p>Opposite day didn't cover it.<p>

It seemed the earth was turning in the opposite direction on an unstable axis, a wild teetering rotation, like the spin of a coin wobbling to a stop. Only her mind didn't stop and wasn't slowing. Jan had questions, hundreds of questions, but formulating one was impossible, as her mind followed several lines of thought at once and kept shuffling, constantly veering from one thought to another and back again.

Her mind impatiently recycled information, replayed interactions like a fuzzy movie on a lopsided reel, bound to jump off track. Nothing computed; predictions based on probabilities were no longer reliable as the anticipated reactions never came to be, which ultimately blew all contingency plans out of the window.

The Twilight Zone was a better description.

She shook her head a few times, like one would do a snow globe, hoping the flaky particles inside settled back into their rightful places, where it was supposed to be, where it all made sense.

The only thought she could grasp was- a nice Packmaster generally wanted something. The bigger the task, the more generous and friendly they seemed to be, until she said no. But she agreed to train the women in front of several witnesses, which tied her to the deal. He didn't have to play nice anymore, but he continued treating her like he hadn't heard she was the Ripper, and if she followed that train of thought, whatever Alcide wanted had to be huge.

She tried to focus on Alcide; his actions, his words, his postures, his facial expressions- positive that she'd missed something- the telltale clue of his true intentions.

But what could he want? It was a question to latch onto, even though her mind kept trying to rationalize the gentle demeanor, the clingy and protective behavior, as residual effects of healing. But she woke two days ago, therefore, it seemed unlikely. Back to the original question- what does he want?

He said he wasn't trying to take advantage, said he didn't want her fighting when war started, and said he wasn't mad at her. _Wasn't mad at her. _And then he sniffed her and left. Left! Left her with an elder and a bunch of pups, the most vulnerable in the pack outside of pregnant females. And he'd done that too, with Abby, his younger, illegitimate sister from what Jannalyn has gathered, but still, a pregnant sister.

With knitted brows, Jannalyn had to admit, had she been in Alcide's shoes, she wouldn't have been so trusting. But Alcide seemed a smart man, he didn't become Packmaster by being gullible or naive...Could it be? That he actually trusts her? And if so, what had she done to deserve it? She couldn't think of anything remarkable enough to warrant such trust and it left her more confused.

And don't get her started on the Beast. At the moment, it wasn't all horrifying and antsy energy, all sinister and malicious intentions... it was amused at Jannalyn's confusion. Amused.

If there were a way to reach inside and strangle that bitch...

It seemed Ludwig's 'manifestation of the survival instinct' theory was incorrect, because if that were the case, Jannalyn shouldn't feel its current amusement, nor should she have felt its curiosity when Alcide kissed her earlier in the day. The presence of the two emotions indicated a more complex alternate persona, one with desires and needs, not just survival instincts and heightened situational awareness.

The realization of this new development, opened up a whole new set of fears for Jannalyn, as she recalled the times she lost days to the Beast. There was a perverse comfort in the knowledge that the Beast murdered and rampaged during those lost days. Non-stop destruction was the assumption, but Jannalyn began to suspect there may have been _other_ activities. If there was any truth to Jannalyn's suspicion, the implications could change everything.

Jannalyn concentrated, dug around in her head, trying to detect any hint of acknowledgement, guilt, or embarrassment, but sensed none. The Beast hung back, still lingering on the edges of her conscious mind, but at ease. Amused and utterly comfortable. But that meant nothing. After all, the Beast was capable of blocking things from Jannalyn at will. What's to say it isn't doing it now? Either way, she planned to schedule a consultation with Ludwig, just to get a handle on the matter.

The she-wolf took in the quiet setting, as the Cadillac bounced along with every bump in the road. The old man in the seat next to her, seemed preoccupied with keeping squinted eyes glued to the road, as Cody napped in the backseat, drooling on the window.

As they passed yet another crop, she realized they were traveling on a rural road, not the road she remembered with busy intersections all the way to the barn. They did not pass Fangtasia this time, and her mind briefly wandered to Godric before her stomach anxiously clenched.

"A different route?" The hot embers of caution hadn't died out yet, nor the heavy sense of foreboding bubbling in her stomach as she tried to think of possible reasons for the detour.

"I'm avoidin' vamp establishments," Bert glanced in her direction and the corner of his mouth pulled down in a frown, "but don't worry, you'll be home soon. Five minutes, tops."

And there goes that word again.

* * *

><p>"Where is he?"<p>

A fine sheen of sweat covered Alcide's body as he let out puffs of steam into the cooling night air. The wolfed out entourage of six were in a v-formation behind him, scanning the environment with glowing eyes.

"You just missed him. Left ten minutes ago. He didn't want Sook in his head." Sam answered from his porch with a bewildered expression. He thought Alcide would call him back, not show up on his doorstep.

Alcide turned his head to the left and jutted his chin out. The three wolves behind his left shoulder scattered away into the woods, as Alcide and the remaining three stalked forward. The wolves behind Alcide's right shoulder, wordlessly moved into a diamond formation, switching from four paws to stand on two feet.

The synchronization of the movement stood out to Sam. The wolves moved around Alcide effortlessly, into a hunting formation without being told, like they'd practiced, like they've been Alcide's subordinates for years. Other than the obvious animal differences, the eerie ability to mirror and compliment one another's movements is what separated wolves from other therians.

"Did he say what he wanted with Jannalyn?"

"He mentioned wanting to see if she was happy, to set on eyes on her and leave. Mind tellin' me what's going on?" Sam could hear the three wolves circling the property, searching the surrounding area for something, or rather, for a certain someone.

Alcide pressed his lips together, debating on whether he should tell Sam the true intent of the visit. He planned to issue a warning, a very explicit warning for the weretiger. Ex-gladiator champion or not, if any harm came to Jannalyn, Alcide would end him. Period. But to relay messages of this nature, indirectly or through third parties, was bad form, unbecoming of a Packmaster.

"Patrollin' territory and checkin' to see if he's trouble. Your impression?"

"Called her Jan. Had pictures of her in his wallet."

"Pictures?" Alcide asked unbelievingly. He expected a vendetta or some unfinished business, but not _pictures_. It meant the weretiger's business with Jannalyn was personal, but how personal?

"Yeah, with family and whatnot."

Sam purposely omitted details about the photos, while eyeing Alcide. He could have said Jannalyn and Quinn looked like a pair in more than a few, but Sam didn't want to add to the misery on his friend's face.

Alcide guessed the pictures were of Jannalyn with _his family_, as she's rumored to be born of the Pits and raised by vamps. Did she think of the weretiger as family? Or was he an old flame? If she had ties elsewhere, then why was she here? Alcide wished for a way to ask Jannalyn these things without sounding too nosey or acting too jealous, and the last thing he wanted, was to offend or stir up bad memories. Either way, maybe a threat to John Quinn's life wasn't a good idea.

"Alcide?" Sookie called out from inside the trailer, slowly moving to the door. Sam had just finished digging out the gravel from her backside and she was finally clear headed, especially after Sam poured alcohol into her cuts. "Oh Alcide, thank God you're here!" Genuinely relieved to see Alcide, her arms extended in an attempt to embrace him, but a naked man stepped forward and growled. Sookie abruptly stopped and dropped her arms, confused by the hostility.

"You shouldn't touch him," the naked man said, while blocking her path and view completely. Sookie appraised the man in moonlight for a breath or two, noting his sharp angular features and the pinkish-tan skin of a man who worked in the sun for a living.

"Why the hell not? He's my friend." Sookie kept her eyes on the man's face, trying to avoid eye contact as Sam advised before he went outside to speak to the pack. The naked man opened his mouth to answer, but Alcide's rough hand on his shoulder, conveyed he wasn't needed in this instance.

"You just shouldn't Sookie." Alcide stepped forward, as the man took a step back.

"Is this a scent thing? Like how Luna doesn't want my scent on Sam?" Sookie asked aloud, wanting confirmation of the the first correlation that could possibly apply.

"Sort of." Alcide answered vaguely. He damn sure wasn't going home from a border run, smelling like another woman. It would ruin his chances with Jannalyn and he knew it; and apparently, so did the wolves.

"So what happens now? With Quinn? You see what he did to me?" Sookie pouted as she showed her elbows and slightly turned to show the road rash and pits in her skin.

"I can't believe you! You bit off more than you can chew, so I stepped in, which was plenty, and now you want Alcide to finish what you started?" Sam was heated at how low Sookie would go...conveniently playing victim when it suited her. "What exactly do you expect Alcide to do?"

"I'm a woman at a buck twenty five and that guy is what? Three hundred pounds of exploding man-tiger? He needs his ass kicked!"

"Sorry Sook. Status, age, gender, weight... none of it means shit when you have a supernatural pedigree. A challenge is a challenge. Didn't your fangers teach you anything?" Alcide nipped the 'damsel in distress' act in the bud with a nicely placed dig at the company she keeps. "I suggest you learn our ways and follow the rules, or stop interacting with our kind altogether. It's one or the other. You can't have it both ways." As he made his position on the matter crystal clear, he wondered if she would make a choice and stick to it, but deep down, he already knew the answer.

"Jesus. You sound like Lafayette." Sookie mumbled. "And hey, what's with the gang o'wolves? Since when did you keep their company?"

"Since becoming Packmaster." Alcide threw the words her way, but was preoccupied with the pungent smell assaulting his senses. "Sam, Luna's gonna have a fit." He could smell it from where he was standing, ten feet from Sam's door. The whole trailer smelled of Sookie's blood and what must be weretiger, and Sam mentioned Luna's compulsion to scent belongings.

"Fuck, I know." Sam complained as he went to a window and pried it open, along with the front door and screen. He knew it was a lost cause, but hoped airing out the trailer would dilute some of the smell.

"I don't get the whole 'you shouldn't touch him' scent stuff. Is it a Packmaster thing? Or did you get someone knocked up, too?" Sookie asked Alcide.

"What the hell you talkin' about Sook?" Alcide asked in aggravation.

"Well, the other day, Luna told me to stay-"

Sam butted in. "What does Luna-"_ Oh God._ "You sayin' she's pregnant?"

"Well, it wasn't cognitive thought, but it was a tiny mental signature coming from Luna, like when Arlene was pregnant."

"Is that why she's been avoiding me?" Sam pondered out loud. He felt a little weak at the knees, so he grabbed at the railing on his porch.

"I don't know, but the other day, she was feeling really insecure and angry, about everything. And she couldn't figure out why, just that she was."

Of course Luna was feeling insecure. She couldn't help it. She had been acting bat shit crazy before hand with her moody temperament, and he only made her insecurities worse by implying their relationship was a mistake. Did she think he would be angry about the pregnancy? That he would leave her to raise it on her own? Or worse, was she going to abort it? Shifters have no laws like wolves and panthers, nothing to stop Luna from having an abortion. Sam began to undress. He needed to speak to his mate, stop her from doing anything stupid.

"I gotta go."

"Whoa there," Alcide blocked Sam's path and placed both hands on Sam's shoulders, so he couldn't fly away. "Did Luna tell you she was pregnant?"

"Well, no," Sam was suddenly angry and shrugged Alcide's hands off with a hard jerk. "What business is it of yours?"

"Now, I'm just tryna to be your friend, so don't be upset at me. Alright?"

Putting one's nose in a pair's personal business wasn't always received well, so Alcide waited for a sign that Sam understood he wasn't trying to step on toes. Sam's lips were tightly pressed closed, but his head jerked up and down.

"I'm not sayin' I'm one hundred percent, but it sounds to me like Luna doesn't know yet. What do ya think, Sook?"

"I gotta agree, Sam. The thought never popped up in her head."

"See? Now, if she doesn't know, you can't spring this kind of news on her. You gotta let her figure it out first. Let Luna have a 'what the fuck moment' and time to process. Just sayin', if she's anything like the women in my family, she'll freak the fuck out if you do."

A round of 'um-hmms' and 'yups' followed, as all the other men were in agreement.

"Which means, don't run your mouth, Sook. Announcements are a big deal to females of our kind. You can't tell anybody else."

"Of course I won't," Sookie declared with crossed arms, slightly offended Alcide thought she had a big mouth.

Alcide responded with a 'yeah right' look of disbelief, which only plucked her last remaining nerve.

"You know what? I've had enough of _everyone _tonight. I'm so outta here. I'll see ya tomorrow, Sam." She limped away, muttering under her breath. Neither men explained the matter of scent to her satisfaction and it didn't seem she'd get an explanation soon. It also irritated Sookie that none of the men offered to escort her to her vehicle, parked on the other side of the parking lot. Her vamps had better manners.

"Okay, so I let Luna figure it out. What the fuck do I do 'til then?"

Sam was miserable and frantic and everything Alcide envisioned he'd look like if he were in the same shoes. The poor shifter's pallor turned a pale green, and he looked downright queasy, like he was ready to hurl dinner and cry like a baby at any second.

"You have shifter friends in the area, right?" Alcide moved to stand next to Sam, just in case. He had no intention of smelling like shifter vomit.

"Yeah, Emory and Suzanne. They've been a pair for over ten years."

"Maybe you oughta speak to them. Get a fellow shifter's view on things. And breath Sam, breath." Alcide chuckled but quickly stifled it. "You ain't the first to get a mate pregnant and you won't be the last. It's gonna be okay."

Those words were exactly what Sam needed to hear- that somehow, some way, everything would work out and if by chance everything went to shit, friends were near. After a few minutes of slow breaths, the shifter's heart slowed and some color, along with clarity returned.

"You're right. Thanks, Alcide, for being a friend."

Alcide gave a crooked smile in acknowledgment. Offering a fresh perspective was the least he could do, given the events of the last week. "Congratulations, ya dirty dog, you." Alcide playfully bumped shoulders with Sam, the animal equivalent of a high five. "Responsibility calls. We gotta go."

With a shimmer, Alcide took off into the woods to finish the run with the men, oblivious to the extra set of eyes following his form.

* * *

><p>Glowing purple orbs were watching, thirty feet above Sam's trailer, hidden near the canopy of one of the highest oaks. The weretiger had been listening to the goings-on below, as he lounged comfortably on a thick weight bearing branch. His position in the trees was high enough to hear the pack's approach and ensured the wolves would have a hard time tracking him, as the wind carried his scent into a far southerly direction.<p>

Quinn knows wolves are entirely too dependent on their sense of smell. Visually, they scan the environment from the head down and they rarely look up. Seems the shifter and the faerie don't look up either.

Jan is the exception, as she usually is, in almost every aspect. She is the only wolf he knows, that would look up into the trees. Hell, she's the only wolf he knows who would _climb _a tree and just sit with him, for hours on end. She's like a gymnast while switched; sure footed with the distinct agility of a feline, impressive for a wolf.

As Quinn lounged in the tree, he debated following the Packmaster's trail to find her, but decided against it. He had to tread lightly, carefully, or he'd run the risk of ruining whatever course she was on. Besides, the shifter didn't say much about Quinn nor did he disclose much about their conversation, so if the Packmaster wanted to inquire further, he'd have to ask Jan.

Alcide also brought several wolves with him, which also worked in Quinn's favor. Wolves are natural gossips, males more than females, and once word got around of Quinn's arrival, Jan would come when she was ready. He just hoped, it was soon.

Quinn silently, gracefully, leaped thirty feet from the tree to land next to the shifter, who scrambled away in surprise.

"Fuckin' Christ! Tryna give me a heart attack? I thought you were gone!" Sam yelled at the giant ball of tiger fur, that shimmered into an equally giant bald headed Quinn.

"Nope. Had to see who's hanging around my girl." Scarred massive shoulders dismissively shrugged.

"Your... girl?" Sam asked.

The tiger only grinned wide and showed all of his perfect white teeth. John Quinn is no fool, he knows a posturing male when he sees one and Alcide was posturing, alright. Quinn saw how Alcide reacted, at hearing there were pictures of Jan in his wallet. It made the Packmaster uneasy as fuck, to know she has ties elsewhere, like he plans on keeping her or something.

The question is- what for? Every Packmaster that has crossed paths with Jan, did not want her around, and the ones that did, often had nefarious plans to use her in some way.

Did the Packmaster think his looks had that kind of sway on Jan? Pretty boy Packmaster would be sadly mistaken; she's been there, done that, bashed in a face or two on the way out- Quinn's grin grew wider at the thought.

"How'd ya know he was comin'?" Sam asked, rubbing at the kinks of stress in the back of his neck.

"Call it intuition. Say, know of any decent rentals or hotels around here?"

"I thought you just wanted to set eyes on her and leave?"

"Change of plans." Quinn stated, calmly and matter of factly. "Trying to get rid of me, Sam?" he teased with a smirk.

"Not particularly," Sam answered defensively, "I thought you said you didn't want her to know you're here?"

"I didn't, not at first, but now," Quinn let out a deep chuckle, "I can't wait to be seen." There was a mischievous expression on Quinn's face, one that slowly turned into a full-on cocky grin, the kind that forms when a person is scheming or having devious thoughts.

Sam didn't like where this was going. He could see it now, the trouble brewing, the inevitable clash of two big males. He wasn't stupid. He knew Alcide set out to deliver a warning, but it seems the weretiger has a past and possible claim on the same female, one Alcide aimed to protect. But the question was- what was Alcide protecting the Ripper from? Despite the obvious dilemma of not having all the facts from both sides, something in Sam's gut told him, there was more to this than he's being led on to believe.

"You know, I'm awful tired of not knowin' what's goin' on in that head of yours, especially since everything seems to be goin' down on my property."

"I know he's your friend, but think about it from my perspective, Sam. An hour ago, you informed the local Packmaster, that you brought the Ripper to his den- and what does he do? He doesn't get mad, doesn't cuss you out for bringing danger... but he shows here with six others, asking about me and what I want with her? Like I'm a threat when I've broken no laws? Something's up and I intend to find out what."

Sam shook his head. "Whatever you're thinkin' about Alcide, you got it wrong. He's a stand-up guy. Maybe if you two talked..."

Quinn, being ever observant, noticed the concerned shifter was desperately trying to keep the peace and Quinn was holding him up from talking to shifter friends, possibly keeping Sam from his pregnant mate._ Not cool._

"Maybe. I'll be around." Quinn took off towards his motorcycle, still parked at the edge of Merlotte's parking lot. He dressed quickly, grateful he remembered to stow a change of clothes in a saddle bag compartment.

* * *

><p>"What the hell happened to her face?" Megan screeched at Bert and Cody, while pulling Jannalyn by the arm to a kitchen chair. "Aunt Ab! Grab the bag for me!" Her fingers ghosted over the side of Jannalyn's face, assessing but careful to <em>not <em>touch the blackened skin. From the coloration and the amount of swelling, she knew no bones were broken and was relieved. She was not in the mood to rearrange facial bones with finals in the morning.

"Vamp fight." Cody answered, a little too calm for Megan's liking. Cody's calm demeanor had officially pissed her off. Injuries sustained in a fight can cause a concussion and make an existing concussion worse, and here he was- acting like it was nothing.

"I didn't spend the last few days doctorin' and fixin' her up, for y'all to bring her back more fucked up than when she left!"

"Watch your mouth, young lady!" Bert reprimanded, "or I'll give your old man a call..."

"Don't go putting this on me! I'm being babysat, remember? A bystander! It was her call!" Cody yelled back at the same time. He didn't like what she was accusing him of, of turning a blind eye instead of defending an injured female. His hands were tied the second Jannalyn demanded they stay out of the fight, just like Alcide's.

"Whatever, Cody. And you know what, Berty? Call him! Or better yet, call my Momma. I bet she'll be just as angry."

"I'm fine." Jannalyn whispered, below the cacophony of voices arguing and yelling all around her. She was positive no one heard her, but didn't care to repeat herself. She just wanted to take a shower, go to bed, and get opposite day over and done with.

Abby walked into the kitchen with a black tote, much like Ludwig's, which had Jannalyn mentally questioning why they had her bag.

"No, you're not fine." Megan forced out irritably, her tone still harsh but much lower in volume.

From Jannalyn's seat, she could see straight down to the bottom of the empty tote. She watched carefully as Megan's hand reached in and somehow produced a pen light from thin air. Now why on earth would Ludwig loan her bag?

"Keep your eyes on my forehead" Megan ordered, redirecting Jannalyn's preoccupation with the tote. She flashed the light into one eye several times, and then did the same with the other. "Are you hurt anywhere else? And don't lie to me either."

Begrudgingly, Jannalyn lifted the blood smeared jacket to reveal the damage on her ribs. "It's just bruises."

A close up inspection, of pulling and prodding, revealed no compound breaks, but hairline fissures for sure, in at least three ribs. Judging from the damage, the vamp knew what it was doing. Four or five more hits in the same spot, would've literally punched a hole in the ribcage.

"Goddammit!" Megan complained under her breath, not missing how Bert was glaring daggers at her now, for all the profanity. _Fuck it_- she thought, she was already in deep shit anyway. Once she explained the arrangement she made with Ludwig to her parents and the Packmaster, they were sure to blow their gaskets, but she had a job to do first. "You're in luck, I already have bonemend injections on hand."

"I don't need bonemend. I'll be healed by this time tomorrow night." Jannalyn protested, but Megan's hand was reaching into the empty bag again. Jannalyn gently grabbed her wrist. "It'll make me too stiff. There's no need for additional medicines on top of the current prescription."

"Fine. Anywhere else?"

Jannalyn shook her head in the negative, still staring at the black tote.

Megan sighed a breath of relief. Physical response to stimuli, verbal responses to questions, and formulating thoughts and correct sentences, were all part of the assessment process. Jannalyn passed with flying colors.

"Why do you have that?" Jannalyn asked, genuinely curious. Goblins aren't known to loan personal objects, especially magical objects.

"It's mine. Custom made. A gift from our friend."

"She shared again?" Jannalyn asked knowingly. Megan nodded but did not elaborate. The look she gave Jannalyn conveyed the topic was not up for discussion around others. "Good. I told you- special."

"And what exactly are y'all talkin' about?" Bert demanded, sensing a secret lying within the vague language between the two.

The inquisitive old man was too curious for his own good. When his eyes landed on the tote, Megan's eyes widened just a fraction. Luckily, diversion was another skill Jannalyn acquired over the years.

"Can I trust you, Bert?" Jannalyn asked in the gravest of tones.

"Of course."

"Good." Jannalyn stood, took off the zip up jacket, and threw it in Bert's direction. "Burn it. I will not contribute to nihilism, sanguineous or otherwise."

Both Bert and Cody got their very first eye full, as she didn't have a tank or tee on, not even a bra, but it wasn't exposed breasts that caused them to stare. From seeing her neck and hands, both assumed the scarring was bad elsewhere, but neither were prepared to really see what lie beneath the clothes. Bert quickly focused on her face, as Cody muttered a 'shit' and quickly looked down.

"Yes, Mis-Ma'am." Bert caught himself just in time, nodded once, and prepared to comply to the directive. Jannalyn issued an order, her very first order to a pack historian, and it was the destruction of clothing laced with vampire blood. His chest filled with pride and he couldn't wait to tell Alcide, knowing he'd be just as pleased.

"C'mon. Let's get you upstairs for a shower and your last round of meds." Megan picked up the black tote and tried to assist Jannalyn, but the Jannalyn put a hand up, in the universal gesture of stop.

"I can walk myself."

"Ok, but I'm helping on the stairs. Aunt Abs," Megan pointed to a cup on the stove, "get your tea."

* * *

><p>The scent glands near the pads of Alcide's paws were practically oozing, like sweaty palms on overdrive, making his scent the strongest and most distinct among the many. His wolf was thorough as he marked the environment for the first time, to let it be known the area is patrolled and protected, that the area is his.<p>

It felt good to run, especially at the brisk pace he kept. As he challenged his own body, he expended a ton of pent up frustration and nervous energy, something Alcide really needed after the last few days.

A few stepped out of formation a few times, at hearing the hooves of deer galloping away, of breaking twigs and rustling bushes as creatures fled. Other than Alcide snapping his jaws in warning and a few snarls of complaints from the subordinates, they'd done remarkably well for a bunch who hadn't run a border in half a decade. Before he knew it, they were done with marking the territory with no incident and were dressing in the barn.

The sweat drenched men kept staring at Alcide out of the corners of their eyes, in awe of his physicality and speed. They were fuckin' tired, run ragged actually, and Alcide looked energized, like he could go another round. Some wondered how he became so strong and where all the damn energy came from, while others had questions about Jannalyn the Ripper, but none spoke up to ask such personal questions of their Packmaster.

Luckily, the nosiest man in the pack moseyed in.

"So," Bert started, taking up space on a bale of hay while looking around at the men. "How was the run?" he asked flippantly.

"Uneventful." Alcide answered, but he knew the questions wouldn't stop there. "What's on your mind, Bert?"

"Can't an old man come out here to ask about his boys?"

"Uh-huh. Sure. Spit it out, _old man_." Alcide smirked. "In this late hour, I'm guessin' it's important."

"You're awful suspicious of old people. For all you know, I came out here to rake hay." Bert feigned a miffed expression.

"Really. At three in the mornin'?" Alcide and several of the men chuckled, including the old man.

Bert took his glasses off and rubbed at his tired eyes. He went over the histories again and had forgotten he was wearing them. "Ok, ok, I'm busted." The old man shrugged. "Here's a recap. The poor girl stood stupefied for twenty minutes after y'all left, went stark fuckin' still. 'Why' was the only word that come outta her mouth, obviously shocked y'all didn't tear into her for being who she is. There's no doubt in my mind, that she thought you'd turn on her too, so you might wanna rush home to clear that up. You know, reassure her in some way."

"Already planned on it. Anything else before I head out?"

"Yep. Megan flipped, cussed us up and down for bringing Jannalyn back in worse condition than when she left. Then they had some creepy female secretive talk going on, about a common friend and a black hand bag. Had me clueless, but that's not unusual- they could've been talkin' about the monthly friend for all I know...or some crazy purse fetish. Hell, I don't understand sneaky womenspeak." An explosion of laughs echoed around the barn. "And..." Bert paused, knowing he had the full attention of everyone in the barn.

"And?" Alcide prompted, grinning at the old man's antics.

"Jannalyn didn't realize it, but she issued her first directive. I gotta say, it's awful tellin' of what's to come."

The smile left Alcide's face with the seriousness of the word _directive_. "Stop playin' and tell me in exact words."

"Her words were - _Burn it. I will not contribute to nihilism, sanguineous or otherwise_- I complied, of course, burned the jacket in your charcoal grill. You know, I haven't heard the terminology she used, since I was a pup. T'was really nice to hear."

With a nod to the old man, Alcide did exactly as Bert advised. He rushed home, reassured he would never have to worry about V-abuse under his roof, ever again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Love it? Hate it? Let me know!**


	13. Abnormalities

**A/N: Hello everyone! Just a quick note to thank those who reviewed and followed. You guys and gals totally rock for waiting on my slow ass to produce some decent reading material. I hope all of you enjoy this chappy.  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Thirteen: Abnormalities**

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><p>Quinn could've stayed at a human establishment nearby, but the available accommodations at the Bon Temps Hilton reeked of layered scents; of multiple human and food scents masked by cleaning product and air fresheners. It just wouldn't do for another night, not with his senses, and it was time to change locations anyway, now that he knows the Packmaster may be looking.<p>

The Crimson Hotel, an upscale establishment in downtown Shreveport was the most logical choice for a couple of reasons. First, the pack would guess his accommodations would be located on the outskirts, not at the very epicenter of the territory, and second, the obvious reason of the hotel being a vampire establishment.

Wolves don't particularly care for the stench of the undead. Most can barely tolerate it for any lengthy period of time and would assume it was the same for all therians. Little do they know, vampires are meticulous housekeepers, careful to remove most traces of scent, even their own.

At the very least, a short stay at the Crimson is better than dealing with stench of nasty humans with poor hygiene and diets.

Of course, the front desk gave him problems at first, gave him the standard 'we are booked to capacity, perhaps you'd be more comfortable elsewhere' line of crap, which really meant 'your kind aren't welcome here.' In the late hour, Quinn engaged the pale stringy vamp in an argument, but the fangy desk clerk was promptly snatched away by an older vamp and owner, Mattias, who recognized Quinn and saw his profits dwindling if the hotel were blacklisted by the events planner.

After settling in and showering, Quinn lie in bed, barely paying attention to the infomercial on TV. As usual, his last thought of the day was of Jan, of their paths separating only to cross and separate, again and again.

He recalled the day Jan called out of the blue with a business proposal, with goals and expectations of results. Jan explained that she needed to acclimate to life above ground and away from all vampires, including Godric; that she needed to learn therian ways and be _normal_- do what regular people could do without thought.

Quinn was the only person who faced Jan in the Pits and lived to tell about it, so in reality, she couldn't approach anyone else with the task. She would've been turned away immediately. Quinn was the most logical choice, the only choice.

Karma presented an opportunity to correct past injustices, instead of delivering a devastating blow, so after a thorough presentation-styled explanation of Jannalyn's condition from Ludwig, Quinn agreed to the arrangement. And so it came to be, Jan spent the following two years with Quinn and his little sister, Frannie, learning how to live among the breathing.

The first ten months were hard, on everyone. It was a slow process of adjustments, full of trials and errors. There were so many things Jan had to learn, so many vampiric mannerisms to break her of, but adjusting to the idea of warmth was the hardest obstacle. She craved affection, but the heat of the living often sent her elsewhere, to the horrors of the Pits he presumed.

Holding hands was the preferred method of showing affection, so it was a starting point. Quinn plunged his hands in ice cold water first, and then, slowly allowed the heat to return to his fingers as she held on for as long as possible. She pushed herself tirelessly but couldn't shake the fear; the fear of being hurt and of hurting others. The daily exercise eventually showed improved reactions to his temperature and progressed to more complicated forms of proximity and touch.

It took nearly a year for Jan to give a proper hug.

A year.

And even then, there was another hang up. Jan explained that the heat from the act of hugging, only made her more aware of the sections of skin on her body that had no feeling whatsoever. Quinn has the same problem with the heavily scarred areas on his chest and shoulder, so he understood with perfect clarity.

The voids are unnerving, more so for Jan, but both later discovered that the pressure from tight embraces created uniformity and counteracted the absent feelings. Quinn felt his touches and hugs were too rough, and could be construed as possessive gripping and borderline manhandling, but Jan disagreed. She was optimistic and expressed having a normal life didn't seem so impossible anymore. And Quinn couldn't argue with that.

As the second year approached, Jan showed more expressions, accepted his bear hugs, and offered them freely. The good nature and respect she showed, given their past and the scars they bare from it, was well, miraculous. All things considered, she should be just as she's rumored to be- vengeful, cruel, with no humanity...but he and Frannie saw the opposite; a gentler, more loving side that not many have had the privilege to witness.

In many ways, Jan's rehabilitation was also his own, but as they became physically comfortable around one another, the lines became blurry for Quinn. Intense feelings were developing for Jan, but he had no hope for reciprocation.

Quinn knew in his heart- the need to sleep next to him or Frannie, the improved need for warmth and physical touch, was an inherent pack imperative- behavior all wolves exhibit when trying to bond with a pack mate, not necessarily romantic in nature. Plus, the fact that she's a wolf, he's a tiger- their animals _did not_ get along. At all. Despite their bipedal halves that cared for one another, their four legged halves wanted to kill the other on sight.

An R-rated love scene on cable TV was the catalyst to her departure from his home. After viewing the thirty second clip, she sat outside the rest of the day and most of the night, staring out into the woods, at nothing. Something upset her into a complete silence. She didn't speak of it and he never pried. He wished he had.

Two days later, she moved her personal belongings into storage, transferred money into his bank account, and said her goodbyes. He wanted to stop her, but he knew he couldn't interfere. She needed to find her place in the world, with a pack somewhere. The only thing he _could_ do was leave an open invitation to his home, for whatever reason, whenever she needed or wanted.

During the last four years, she checked-in with a phone call ever so often, to say she was alive, to check her messages, and to ask of Frannie and Mama Quinn, but every time she called, she sounded more and more haggard, more and more depressed.

For reasons unknown to Quinn, Ludwig discreetly kept tabs on Jan. The ancient goblin hybrid dropped in on Quinn every few months, usually angry as all Hell, venting about Jan's various mishaps with packs. But a month ago, Ludwig 'popped-in' during a ceremony, at a catered event for the vampire King of Washington.

Ludwig has a deep hatred for vamps in general, so she had no issues with interrupting vampire affairs, but to subject herself to the presence of over two hundred vampire guests... it had to be serious. He thought Ludwig came to deliver the news of Jan's death, but it turns out, something _else_ had gone horribly wrong.

The violence was escalating.

Two turned to vamp goo in Miami; three maimed panthers in Ocala, Florida; six dead wolves in Atlanta, Georgia; four barely recognizable wolves in Tuscaloosa, Alabama; a wolf with a broken jaw, six vamps with missing limbs, and one human casualty while crossing through the state of Mississippi... all in a matter of a five months. To his knowledge, Jannalyn nor her Beast had ever killed a human, so to hear of a human casualty was alarming.

With the escalation and severity of violence, Ludwig feared a complete mental break was coming, and that was enough to spur an almost non-stop effort on his part, through several channels to track Jan down.

Lucien, the Sheriff of Area 3 in Louisiana, called him over a week ago. From how Lucien tells it, she passed through New Orleans and Alexandria without incident, after supposedly informing her the two packs in his Area had been 'dismantled', terminology used to describe total annihilation during the course of war. However, Quinn had a sneaking suspicion the Haitian vamp was withholding information. After pressing further, with underlying threats of involving the King of California, Lucien broke.

Apparently, Lucien is missing a finger- a pointer finger to be exact, taken for poking Jan in the chest. After removing his digit, she threatened to take his fangs, a threat no vampire took lightly. Unlike limbs, fangs don't grow back. The teeth would have to be reinserted and took a considerable amount of time for normal function to return, that is, it the fangs were given back. Luckily for Lucien, they parted ways without further incident.

So the search resumed. Only by sheer luck did Quinn catch her scent going north instead of west, towards the backwoods of Louisiana, towards humid and boring Bon Temps of all places.

And now, she's interacting with one of the largest packs in America and pretty boy Packmaster seems to have an agenda. _Great. Fuckin' great_- he grumbled. His only goal now, is to convince Jan to come back to California, where she was wanted, where she could live in peace. Fuck finding a pack.

* * *

><p><em>"Godric, this can't wait any longer. I need to discuss something with you."<em>

_As her soft raspy voice floated through the house, Godric, Isabel Beaumont, and Stan Baker concluded their murmurs of Area matters and the three flashed to the living room._

_"We're off to feed. Goodnight, Jannalyn." She envied Isabel's voice; so feminine and smooth, and with a slight latin accent that made any word seem sensual. "I shall see you tomorrow at dusk." Isabel bowed with a slight tilt of her head. Jannalyn did the same as Stan moved forward._

_"So shall I," Stan twanged in a heavy Texan accent. He admired Jannalyn for all the wrong reasons, always flirting and inquiring about her true number of kills. After a quick look in Godric's direction, he took Jannalyn's hand, placed a wet kiss on a knuckle, and tipped the rim of his black cowboy hat. "Goodnight ma'am," he said, with a wink and a wide fangy smile.  
><em>

_"Goodnight, the both of you." Jannalyn rasped.  
><em>

_Godric escorted them to the front door, chiding Stan about his indiscreet fang erection the whole way, and then zipped to the couch to take Jannalyn's hands. "My dear one, you have my undivided attention."_

_"I'm leaving." Jannalyn kept her eyes on her lap, refusing to look at Godric. She was afraid of what she'd find if she looked at his eternally young face, afraid she'd change her mind._

_"If this is because of Eric...what he called you," he tilted her chin up with a single finger and frowned at the sadness in her eyes. "You are no pet. Not to me. Nor will you ever be. I shall always hold you in the highest regard."_

_She didn't doubt him. The words were spoken with careful and absolute adoration._

_"He didn't stop at pet." Angry tears welled up and clouded her vision. "He called me your dog, the monstrosity who patiently waits outside your bedchamber, for you and your cock to rise at nightfall." As the strained raspy words left her lips, she could see Godric's eyes growing dark, going from powder blue to black and back again. "An abomination," she continued, "an abnormality that should've died on the sands."_

_"Heed not a single syllable of the nonsense he spoke... you know my childe was promptly corrected." Regardless of the harsh punishment Godric inflicted on Northman, he could see that the damage was done. He could see it in her eyes. Rage began to boil in his cold veins, as he recalled how her face looked when his childe uttered those blasphemous words, the pure outrage that simmered to painful disappointment. "Just words, my dear one. Hurtful, yes, but just words."_

_"Just words? I have to wonder, if this is an indication of what others think of me...of you...of us."_

_"Given time, all opinions can change, just as my underling's opinions have changed."_

_"Name calling aside, he's right. I don't belong here." _

_The words hurt and felt foreign on her tongue, because if she belonged anywhere, it was with Godric - the kindest, gentlest soul she's ever met. But she felt like a freak of nature among vampires- like the polar opposite of her house mates. Her scarred skin next to their flawless skin, her heat next to their cold, her day to their night...so many differences. She felt abnormal and out of place in every instance and Northman's insults only brought those differences and feelings to the forefront.  
><em>

_"You are merely repeating Eric's words... words I now believe, he intended for you to hear, in hopes of creating doubt and friction between us. And it seems he has succeeded. His hatred for your kind has gone too far." _

_Godric's eyes had gone black, the deepest abysmal shade of onyx. He evacuated the couch to stand several feet away and closed his eyes. Jannalyn felt a low vibration in the room, a pulse of vibrating energy emanating from Godric, and she knew what he was doing- he was summoning the return of his Viking childe through the blood..._

_"Godric, please. I'd rather not see him again. He's entitled to his opinions-"_

_"Not when it affects my home! Not when you threaten to leave!" Godric roared ferociously and an art deco vase went flying across the room. It exploded, turning into dust on impact, irreversibly pulverized as it hit a stone wall.  
><em>

___Jannalyn knew vampires are strongly opposed to change, often fighting the slightest ones, but she didn't expect Godric to become angry. So she chose her words wisely, trying to soften the blow.  
><em>__

_"I must leave. I need to be around my own kind for a while. I hope I'm welcome to return, if things don't work out." She had no idea how to begin any association whatsoever with wolves, but she would try. She n_eeded to try._  
><em>

_"Your kind," Godric sneered at the words, "you intend to join a pack?" _

_Jannalyn closed her eyes and nodded into her lap. The prospect of being around her own kind frightened her, but Ludwig assured her, with a lot of work and a little help, rehabilitation was possible. _

_"I am your family! Your home is here, with me!" A chaise was thrown and then a table, both booming and splintering as they crashed into unrecognizable heaps. Godric's fangs dropped when he felt his meddling, selfish childe hovering above the building. Godric roared out curses to the ceiling, in Swedish and English. _

_"This isn't right. We-" She hated the words she had to say, but she had to be strong, "my staying here, is wrong. I have to try-"_

_"There is no right and wrong. Only survival or death! Do you not comprehend? Leaving my protection is a death sentence!"_

_I am already dying here- she thought, restraining the sob in her throat. _Living this way was killing her. In Urland, she had the hills and the forest, the freedom to run for miles, black soil under bare feet, the smell of trees...but in Dallas, she had to stay home because of Godric's status in the vampire community. It was another cage, with prettier walls and friendlier faces, but still, a cage. __

_"I can protect myself." Jannalyn countered._

_Godric had her pinned to a wall in a heartbeat; his body pressed to hers, holding her wrists at shoulder level to demonstrate how helpless she is against vampires as old as he._

_"Can you? Your kind, they would kill you within the year." His voice lowered, his blues eyes moved to the floor then snapped up to her greys. A fierce look of determination settled over his features. "I...I cannot...will not lose you."  
><em>

_A single tear slid down her face and Godric followed it with his eyes. She couldn't contain them anymore.  
><em>

_"It's done, Godric. I've already made arrangements... I'll stay with John Quinn." _

_And again, she was not prepared for how Godric would react.  
><em>

_"Him?!" With a closed fist, Godric struck the wall a foot from her head. As stone and plaster crumbled, he roared again. "Him?! Have you not done enough? Suffered enough, for him?!" More things went crashing; glass and porcelain and wood. Jannalyn pressed herself into the wall to avoid his fury, as half of the living room was destroyed in a mere few seconds. _

_"He's the most logical choice... the only choice for acclimation. My Beast won't kill him." Godric flashed back to her spot near the wall._

_"And your Beast won't kill me," he argued then his face grimaced in pain. "What does he have that I do not? What luxury can he provide that I cannot?"  
><em>

_"He's like me," she emphasized the last two words, hoping to avoid a side by side comparison of their obvious differences.  
><em>

_"Do you love him?" Godric asked quietly. His expression was so vulnerable, so desperate. There was something else swimming in his eyes, something Jannalyn couldn't quite define._

_"What? I...I" Jannalyn wasn't expecting such a question, and failed to see how it pertained to the current argument. "Godric, I don't understand-"_

_"Just answer the question, Jannalyn. Do. You. Love. Him?"_

_She didn't know how to answer the question, because she never really thought about any feelings for Quinn, not even in passing thought. But she did know, she would never wish him harm of any kind. She would even avoid hurting the weretiger's feelings, if she could. What else could that be, but love?  
><em>

_"In a way, I suppose I do." _

_It came out more like a question than an answer, but Godric flinched, like he'd been struck in the face. And when blood tears formed in his eyes, she sobbed, sobbed hard for being the worst kind of monster. It was never her intention to hurt Godric, but it was apparent she had. What had she done? How did it come to this? She hung her head and cried, because she didn't know how to erase the pure agony on his face. She wanted it gone, but she put it there.  
><em>

_His ice cold hand gently lifted her face, to meet angry black eyes tinged with red, boring into hers. "I'll fucking kill him."_

_"If you do, you might as well end me too. You already know I'll die for him. I already have." She said with trembling lips, forcing out the words with conviction, blinking tears all over the place.  
><em>

_And with that statement, Godric knew her decision was made, that there was no changing her mind.  
><em>

_"I cannot accept this!" Godric wailed, his eyes muddled in red from unshed blood tears. He was positive he had a soul now, because it was burning with jealousy, twisting in pain, drowning in feelings of inadequacy and suffocating in helplessness. "I will make you stay," he threatened.  
><em>

_"Against my will?" Jannalyn rasped. "Why would you be so cruel? Why give me life and freedom, only to take my choices away?"  
><em>

_His face crumpled at his own hypocrisy. He was behaving no better than her former slaver, trying to confine her to an existence she clearly didn't want._

_"Let me go, Godric." She tearfully pleaded, nose to nose with Godric's pain stricken face, an angelic face she was trying to commit to memory for the very last time._

_"I will not," he whispered, as he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. His body trembled like a leaf, as he clutched on for dear life. "Can you not see it? I love you," he sobbed into her neck._

_And I love you. "You have to let me go."_

Jannalyn sat at the large wooden table, a coffee cup poised in mid-air, but stopped a couple of inches from her lips. Tears slid down her face and off her chin, dripping onto the wood at her elbows. Alcide watched from the entryway for at least a solid minute, and she hadn't moved. He couldn't allow the stillness or the sadness, for a second more.

"Hey, you okay?" Alcide asked, successfully jarring her from memory lane as he walked into the kitchen. She blinked rapidly and wiped at her face.

"Yes." She managed a small embarrassed smile in his direction and then took a sip of surprisingly cold coffee, only to blanch at the bitter taste. In two steps, she poured the coffee out, then moved to the stove with her back turned to compose herself.

"My culinary skills are limited to breakfast and grilling." A large cast iron skillet was placed on the table and Alcide knew what it was immediately-sausage gravy- and next to it, a wrapped basket of biscuits, his favorite meal. "It'll offend me if you just stare at it. Sit. Eat."

"You didn't have to cook." He took his usual seat at the table and stared at Jannalyn while she placed bowls and silverware down. "But I really appreciate it."

"I don't mind and you're welcome," she rasped softly. "I'll go wake up Abby and Cody."

"Wait." His large calloused hand grabbed her wrist.

She stopped mid-step. "Mmm?"

When Alcide came home from the run, he discovered Jannalyn sleeping in the guest room at the end of the hall, spooning Abby, with a protective arm draped over the pup in her belly. Obviously, they buried the hatchet over the underwear disagreement and both looked so peaceful, that he let them be. Her scent on his bed was still strong, so he managed some sleep. Now, it was clear that Jannalyn was avoiding him, but he decided to address the smaller elephant in the room.

"You've done that three times now, you know, spaced out?" Alcide was starving like any other morning, more so because of last night's run, but he wanted to engage her in conversation and found it more important than filling his stomach.

Jannalyn stared at his hand until he removed it from her wrist, and then a bitter smile appeared on her face.

"Promise not to judge?" Alcide nodded and she gracefully took the seat next to him. "It's a quirk, I guess. Sometimes, I become trapped in thoughts, loops of information when I think too hard. Other times, I'm stuck in a flashback, forced to relive moments in my life, that my mind refuses to forget."

"So a sad memory? Just now?"

"Yes," she gave a sad smile, "of one of my better moments, when I did the right thing for all involved."

That statement was the most revealing piece of information to date and her openness surprised Alcide, in a good way.

"Wanna talk about it?" Alcide asked hopefully.

"Not about the specific memory. No." Her memories of Godric were hers and she wasn't prepared to share those memories with anyone, especially Alcide. "But I will say, flashbacks are a nuisance. It can be intrusive in its spontaneity, randomly taking over at the oddest and most inconvenient times, but flashbacks aren't a complete negative."

"How so?" So curious was his expression, that for the briefest of seconds, the title of Packmaster was forgotten. She felt like she was talking to a friend, or better yet, confiding to a boyfriend. She smiled at the thought, but immediately banished it from her mind to focus on answering his question.

"If anything, even the saddest of memories, reminds me how much I've changed. Many things have changed, some things more than others."

She eyed his arm, laying on the table. "Like this," Jannalyn's palm ran along the inside of Alcide's forearm to his wrist, causing the skin to erupt with goosebumps and every hair to stand on end. "This wasn't always possible." Her slender fingers slowly dragged up his palm to intertwine her fingers with his.

Alcide was transfixed, stunned by the slow sensuous pace of her fingers gliding over his skin and the strange flood of euphoria settling in. This touch wasn't accidental, by no means. He could feel his temperature rising, something else too, straining below the waistband of his pajama pants.

She held his hand for a moment and closed her eyes, to enjoy the warmth and the sound of his heart galloping, quickening with her touch. Abby was right. A gal can tell exactly how a he-wolf feels about her, with a single slow touch, if she pays attention. The simple act of holding hands with Alcide, felt so intimate, so good, _so right_, but he didn't understand its significance.

"From as far back as I can remember, every warm touch signaled violence- fighting for my life or having to take one. It took two years of adjusting to warmth, so I could feel relatively normal, so that I wouldn't...hurt others. Even then, I've always had to mentally prepare, to touch, be touched...an unexpected and accidental bump, still had the potential to set me off. But your warmth is so..." her head tilted as one side of her face pulled back into a grimace.

He probably thought she was certifiable now, with talk of flashbacks and whatnot. And talking about her upbringing in the Pits? _Dumb fucking move Jan._ Sometimes, little slips about one's past was perceived as an open invitation to ask prying questions, questions that would force her mind to recall the things she'd rather not.

"My warmth is what?" Alcide pressed.

She gulped, pulled her hand away, and blinked rapidly in nervousness.

"I should go- wake them up now and get dressed for the day." Jannalyn rose from her seat, trying to run away in embarrassment, trying to avoid Alcide for a few minutes or better yet, until he left for work.

But Alcide wasn't having it. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his lap, his erection prominent against her outer thigh.

"My warmth is what? Tell me." His low and husky voice, so close to her ear..._Dear God_, he was sniffing her again, his nose and warm breath dancing over the skin of her neck, behind her ear. With a pull of her hips, he adjusted her position in his lap. "Tell me. Please." He whispered.

She could feel herself melting, feel her body leaning in for more warmth, more attention, and she couldn't ignore the hardness pressing into her hip. He was _so_ hard, that it couldn't be comfortable, so she tried to shift away from it. A thought fluttered through her mind- _He's aroused. By me. I did that._ Which only left her in uncharted territory...what _was_ she supposed to do_ now_? She knew enough, from love scenes on cable TV mostly, but to say she's inexperienced is an understatement.

"Please, tell me," he whispered again, nuzzling her neck in encouragement.

The brush of his beard sent a shiver down her spine, a reaction she couldn't restrain.

"It's...it's...nice." _Nice? Very articulate Jan-_ she scolded herself. She settled for blunt honesty. "I don't know how to act around you. I'm confused all the time," she confessed into the crease of his neck and shoulder, the whispers of breath causing Alcide to shiver, just as she did moments ago.

In one swift movement, Alcide lifted her rear and moved her to straddle him in the kitchen chair, causing Jannalyn to yelp in surprise. One hand pulled at her neck, so that their foreheads were touching, their lips centimeters apart. The other hand grabbed her hip and pulled, pressing her hot mound against his aching and twitching bulge.

Jannalyn could feel the sweat forming on her skin and an intense heat where they were only separated by flimsy sleepwear.

"Me, too. It's like..." his hands couldn't decide if they needed to roam the curves of her body or if they should pull her closer. He did a little of both. "Like my mind and body..." his hips jutted upwards, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Jannalyn. "Like the man and wolf..." he needed friction. He was gonna die if he couldn't get inside of her soon.

She stilled completely then pushed at his chest, to put a few inches of distance between them.

"Like logic, emotions, and instinct, don't make sense?" she asked with a tilt of her head. Her eyes zoomed all over his face, analyzing his reaction.

"Exactly." He stopped moving because those words were spot on, and he stared back, both realizing they were equally confused about the other.

She blinked a few times, took a deep steadying breath, and stared at his mouth. Her thumb brushed over his bottom lip as her fingers splayed, running from his beard to pass his ear, to rake through his hair. "What do we do, about all this confusion?"

He hoped the look he gave her, conveyed what his mouth couldn't at the moment.

_Kiss me dammit. And be mine, Jannalyn. Be mine._

Jannalyn wet her lips and moved closer, inching forward to kiss him, gauging his expression the entire time. Alcide felt his heart skip a beat when her soft lips pressed to his once, twice, and then her sweet pink tongue slowly ran across his bottom lip, as if beckoning him to play.

He went weak in the chair, completely surrendered to her attention.

With a low groan, his mouth began to move against hers, their tongues languidly licking, flicking, tasting and exploring the other. Her hands went to his hair, playing and pulling him closer.

Alcide had the distinct urge to lick her, a message from his wolf no doubt, so he did.

It was a slow swipe of his tongue, from her collar bone to beneath her chin. She stiffened and he thought that maybe, he'd gone too far, but when he looked in her eyes, they glowed for half a second before her mouth crashed to his, aggressively kissing him with everything she had.

The scent of her arousal flooded the room and with every pant of breath, Alcide swore the nerve endings throughout his body came alive. She clutched and pulled at him, ferociously kissing him like a woman possessed...and he couldn't be happier or hornier. His hips jutted upwards once more and she made a delicious sound, a muffled moan against his lips.

"Jesus, not around the food!" Cody's voice whined, breaking the two out of their little piece of heaven. And Jannalyn couldn't help it- she laughed. Hard.

Abby leaned in the kitchen entryway, a sleepy grin on her face. "Get a room for all that funny business. I'm starving."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** **I had a horrendous time with the Godric flashback. Was it surprising? Emotionally moving? As sad as I envisioned it in my head? Let me know!  
><strong>


	14. Friction

**A/N: Thanks to all who left reviews. Words motivate. Well... enough of my blathering for now. I hope all of you enjoy this chapter.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Fourteen: Friction**

* * *

><p>Her laughter. Music to his ears.<p>

As the low raspy barks of laughter filled his ears, Alcide had an odd sense of deja vu. For a moment, he swore he's heard Jannalyn's unique laugh a thousand times...it was so familiar, but not, like a cloudy recollection from a long forgotten childhood, or a whisper of memory from a dream.

But he couldn't recall an actual time or place, when he's heard her sweet raspy laughter before.

A specific mental image came rushing back into his mind. _On the forest floor. Side by side. Holding hands and laughing._ Yes. That's where he'd _seen_ it, that's where he'd _heard_ it- in his imagination, shortly after puking his brains out.

In his mind's eye, a clearer picture came to mind- of looking up to a star-filled night sky, past barren branches of pines... of her body glistening with sweat, her scars shining bright under the pale gray glow of moonlight... of her gun metal eyes wild with mischievous humor...laughing just like this.

Beautiful.

Fascinating.

Alarmingly familiar.

A rapid succession of pictures filtered through his mind, too fast to focus on just one. Blurs of landscape, pine, oak, and spruce forests, hills, lakes, drought ridden plains, and mountains... Blurs of changing skies- day, night, winter, spring... But in every picture, there was one constant. Jannalyn's black wolf standing alone, looking to the horizon.

Alcide was ejected out of superspeed wolfy lalaland when Jannalyn nuzzled him, her cheek slowly dragging against his beard.

"Later," Jannalyn whispered. She planned to kiss him again, and soon, before he left for work.

And again, he found himself staring at her, this time with furrowed brows. Alcide had never been to the remote places he saw in his head; had barely traveled beyond Mississippi and Louisiana in all of his thirty-five years, but Jannalyn is well traveled and maybe...just maybe...

Nah, his mind is fuckin' with him. _Bert's Third Pair supernatural mumbo jumbo's got me spooked_- he thought.

After a quick peek down at his crotch, Jannalyn promptly removed herself from his lap. As she maneuvered around Abby's protruding belly, she kissed her cheek in greeting.

"I suppose you two need to talk. Cody and I will be upstairs." Jannalyn announced.

"Aww, c'mon! I'm hungry!" Cody complained with a full on pout, his hands gripping at his stomach as if unreasonably malnourished.

"You can wait a few minutes. Let's go." Jannalyn motioned for Cody to lead the way and he dragged his feet, rather dramatically, as he walked out of the kitchen.

Abby giggled at Alcide's put-out expression, his eyes following Jannalyn as she left the room. Alcide sat up straighter, discreetly adjusted himself, and took a deep breath to regain some composure.

"Good mornin', Abby." He scooped a spoonful of sausage gravy into a bowl and took his first bite.

"Uh-huh. Good mornin' it is. I suppose your promise of 'no funny business' is null and void, if she does all the pursuing?" Abby teased, while helping herself to a bowl.

"Mmm," it was partial answer and a partial response to a mouthful of biscuit. A change of subject was due- he had no intention of speaking about his love life/sex life with any woman who wasn't the object of his affections. "I see you two are getting along," he managed between bites. The sausage gravy was incredibly thick and the biscuits were to die for, extra buttery and all kinds of flavorful.

"We talked last night, about a lot of things. Things that were bothering her, bothering me. We talked about you too, so naturally, I gave the obligatory 'I'll try to kick your ass if you hurt my brother' talk, but then, I guaranteed I'd kick your ass if you hurt her so-"

"Brother?" he asked, after swallowing a mouthful. Last he knew, Abby didn't want anyone to know, but now she was practically announcing it to the pack with a youngin' in the house. His grin grew wide as his arm reached across the table to hold Abby's hand. "Your mother confirmed?"

"Yeah, she remembered Jackson's last name from the check he handed her, all those years ago. Megan and Ludwig confirmed in a way, too."

Hearing Ludwig's name thrown in the mix worried Alcide. As far as he knew, Ludwig generally answered to supernatural emergencies. "Oh? Everything alright?"

"Yeah, better than alright. Megan was the first to suspect, but Ludwig confirmed this is an Alpha blood pregnancy. Tony doesn't come from Alpha blood, neither does my mother, so that means the baby got it from me. But if you want, we can still do a blood test through Ludwig, just to be-"

"Not necessary. I doubt your mother would lie and like I said, we look alike for cryin' out loud. Plenty enough proof for me."

According to his no good father, the Herveauxs have a long history of being Alpha bloods, since the sixteenth century, going back to their roots in France long before the Creole/ Cajun mixing in the early 1800's. Were's born of Alpha blood, meant their wolves are slightly faster, larger, and stronger, and these qualities rarely skipped generations- a sound explanation for Abby's speed. Although Alcide hasn't seen her wolf yet, he was positive it was larger than the average female.

When Alcide became a man, his mother told him what to expect from Debbie if she were to carry. In gestating females, adrenaline is present throughout, as an added measure to better protect the pup. Which also means the early onset of erratic, impulsive, and temperamental behavior - a sound explanation for his sister's antics lately.

"This baby is huge too. Ludwig guessed five pounds already. At this rate, he's gonna be a nine or ten pounder by the time he's born."

"He?" Abby giggled again, when she heard him test an upcoming title, "Uncle...Uncle Alcide."

* * *

><p>3 p.m.<p>

Kenneth Delacroix wasn't five minutes into being back home, before his father, Julien, informed him about a possible war with the Blood Claws. Never mind the fact that his Dad had finally been acknowledged for years of service to the Long Tooth behind Marcus' back. Never mind the fact that his Dad was now the acting Beta, a title he felt Julien rightfully deserved without a provisional status.

The women are training, he said, his Momma and Meg were training... for war.

As a child, Kenny endured relentless teasing in school, for being a black kid with a lily white Momma and sister, but in middle school, Cody McCoy was his worst antagonist. Later on, when Cody joined the pack, Marcus backed up Cody's prejudices and bigotry with his own snide comments. They were two racist peas in a pod. Eventually, he began to feel out of place within his own pack, so Kenny resigned and left the territory to live with an aunt in Georgia.

And now he's returned to find the same dumbass wolf he's hated for most of his life, started the single event that could rip his family away.

"You dumb motherfucker!" Kenneth's dark fist connected with Cody's jaw, putting the younger wolf on his ass. "This is _your_ fault!"

From Bert's farmhouse, the women heard the commotion and went running to put an end to the fighting. "Stay Abby, don't go out there," the women heard the old man say, as they double-timed it to the barn.

Jannalyn was the first to come upon the scene and saw Cody on the ground, taking punch after punch to the face. He wasn't fighting back nor was he attempting to block the onslaught of raining fists. He just laid there and took the abuse, like a cur, not the young man who came to her defense at Fangtasia.

With a growl, Jannalyn grabbed the stranger by waist and threw him several feet away. She crouched over Cody's collapsed form, hovered over him like a mother wolf over an injured pup. A low continuous growl of warning erupted from her chest, making it clear the stranger would have to go _through her_ to get at Cody. Kenneth got up from the ground and came charging, undeterred by Jannalyn's appearance or was too enraged to notice. With blazing white irises and every muscle tensely coiled, she prepared for the collision.

"Kenny! Don't!" Melinda screamed, tackling her son in middle of the charge. With an 'oomph' he hit the dirt, but he didn't stay down long. Melinda and Kenny were up again within seconds.

"I'll kill him! I'll fuckin' kill him!" Kenneth struggled to get around Melinda, who kept shoving against him and wouldn't let him pass.

"Stop, Kenny. We can't let you through." Megan came into Melinda's periphery, along with Tracy and Natalie.

A mother had never been so grateful for the assistance. Jannalyn's protective positioning over Cody left no doubt that Jannalyn would fight tooth and nail...and Kenny would lose.

"What's the meaning of this?" Jannalyn growled out to the rest of the boys, who sat around idle as their pack brother took a beating. Most cowered back and none spoke up.

"None of your business, outsider!" Kenneth growled, peering around his mother's head to stare Jannalyn in the eyes. She stood from the crouch and stepped away from Cody.

"Stop while you're ahead, stranger. You won't last ten seconds with me."

"He's no stranger. This is my son, Kenneth." Melinda wrapped her arms around Kenny, for a better hold. "Avert your eyes, boy!" Melinda growled into his ear, annoyed by Kenny's idiocy and hot temperament. Kenny's challenging gaze didn't drop so as a last resort, she squeezed his shoulder hard enough to make him flinch. "You won't win, son. Please, take a good look."

He took in Jannalyn's appearance, looked from head to toe and noted the scars, but was undeterred.

"She doesn't scare me, let me go!"

Melinda was struggling now, even with the added help. Kenny had grown stronger since the last time she had to hold him back from fighting. He almost matched Julien in strength now, and she could feel her son slipping from her hold.

"Let him go, Melinda. I'll oblige. We need a demonstration anyway."

"Please! No, I'm-" Melinda was prepared to beg for a pardon, for the life of the young man she raised as her own, but Jannalyn put her hand up, gesturing for Melinda to stop.

"I promised Alcide no permanent injuries." Jannalyn rasped as loud as possible. "Now, step out of the way and let him through."

Melinda had no choice but to comply. Her son made a challenge and the other wolf accepted. If Kenny survived this, she was gonna kick his ass all over Shreveport, and then she'd demand Julien to do the same. Slowly, Melinda and the women backed away from Kenny, their eyes shifting from Kenny to Jannalyn and back again.

"Stupid move, Kenny." Megan mumbled with worried watery eyes, eyes that matched their mother's.

Kenny looked around. Everyone had backed away, far enough to form a wide circle.

"Come get some, pup." Jannalyn smirked.

Kenny's insides boiled with rage at her cocky demeanor and his eyes burned fiery orange, the color of wildfire.

With a roar, Kenny ran forward and snapped his arm back to deliver a punch. Jannalyn didn't move until the last possible second, turning into the punch to catch his arm with both hands. With her back to his chest, she bent over and in one fluid motion, she threw him over her shoulder while holding on to the offending arm. She stomped a foot to his chest, near the armpit, pressing his body to the ground. His wrist was bent into a painful hold, almost to the breaking point but Jannalyn stopped when his face contorted in pain. She maintained control over the younger male, by applying just enough pressure, so the threat of a broken bone still loomed.

"I gave you too much credit. That was four seconds," she whispered down to Kenny. While keeping both eyes on the downed male in a firm hold, she addressed the others.

"The momentum from a sloppy charge, can be used to your advantage. It seems unnatural to give the enemy your back, but most throws require it. Once you get your opponent down, this foot," she pressed down into his armpit, hard enough to cause Kenny to hiss in pain, "is important. Remember this foot.

Control the wrist, bend it upwards to keep the arm straight, and with a sharp knee here," her other leg bent enough to connect with Kenny's elbow, "the elbow is hyper-extended and finally, with a hard pull, the arm separates from the socket. Lack of upper body strength is the issue here- for all of you. Use the power in your legs. You may not be able to pull the arm away completely, but the shoulder will dislodge.

Now... back to the important foot," she pressed down with her foot again, "This foot is your anchor. If your opponent tries to kick your other leg out from under you, if the wrist is properly gripped, a fall in any direction also dislocates the shoulder."

Still staring at Kenny, who had the sense to look away now, she asked a question. "Megan, confirm for everyone. Can one shift with these hypothetical injuries?"

Megan moved forward to speak, with an apologetic look to her brother who was still in a painful hold. "It would be extremely difficult. Bones could be broken, but the tendons in the wrist, elbow, and shoulder would be torn. The body would fight to stay switched because a shift would make it worse, causing the injuries to extend and move around, possibly heal incorrectly." Megan ignored the incredulous eyes of her mother, boring holes into her temple, and chose to focus on Jannalyn instead.

"And if the arm is ripped away, how long will it take for the enemy to bleed out?"

Kenny's heart picked up speed, despite the quiet tone and calmness of Jannalyn's voice. He wasn't looking at her, but he could almost sense the smirk on her face.

Megan gagged a little but gulped it down. "Three minutes, tops."

"And if you figure in an accelerated heart rate, from a thirty foot dash across the neutral zone?"

"Two minutes. Maybe less."

Sensing submission, Jannalyn let go of Kenny and extended a hand to help him up.

Her hand was a choice. If Kenny took it, it would mean acceptance of subordination and it also showed a level of trust to freely give back an appendage she could easily rip away; but if he didn't take her hand, it meant the opposite. Jannalyn kept her hand out, giving him plenty of time to think it over and choose.

Kenny reluctantly placed his hand onto her waiting one, and was promptly yanked to his feet.

Julien and Melinda raised Kenny to be a proper he-wolf and he readied his mouth to apologize for his brash behavior, but Jannalyn narrowed her eyes and nodded for him to join the others. As far as she was concerned, Kenny chose to take her hand- that was the end of it. Dragging it out with a drawn out apology was unnecessary and they didn't have time for the unnecessary.

As Kenny took his place between Melinda and Megan, his little sister slapped his sore arm and muttered 'idiot' in his direction.

"Cody. Come here." Jannalyn waited until Cody came to stand in front of her, but in his dazed state, he forgot the ruse and went to bended knee.

Kenny turned to his mother with questioning eyes. _No one went to bended knee unless... Holy fuckin' shit_- he thought.

Melinda lifted both brows and pursed her lips, a silent 'I told you so'. "Not a word," she shushed.

Jannalyn attributed Cody's position to seeing stars from a near knockout, so with a secure arm around his waist, she moved him several feet away to rest on a bale of straw. There was a cut to Cody's cheek and brow, but Jannalyn couldn't tell if anything was cracked or broken. "Megan?"

Megan assessed the damage with a few quick tugs and pulls at Cody's face. "Pressure cuts. Nothing's broken. He's just dazed."

"Look at me," Jannalyn gave the boy a few gentle slaps to the face. Cody's eyes landed on her cheek. "In the eyes." He cast his eyes downwards and shook his head submissively, and it irked her in a seriously foul way. For the second time in two days, she forced his chin up. "Last night, you were prepared to attack a vampire for scratching me, so I _know_ you are no coward. Explain to me, why you didn't defend yourself."

Her voice was stern and once again, her expression was of anger, but Cody could see the genuine concern for him in those crazy, telling eyes of hers. They were scrutinizing him, analyzing him, looking into his soul again, and he couldn't lie. He suspected she would know if he did.

With a shaky breath, he answered. "Kenny's right. I've endangered everyone. This _is_ my fault."

"Yes," she hissed. "This _is_ your fault... but your Packmaster has decided to prepare for war, instead of handing you over to be mauled. _He_ knows it was a mistake and _his_ opinion is the only one that matters."

Jannalyn's head turned and her heated glare zoomed in on Kenny. "You _will_ obey Alcide's decision. No more attacks on Cody." She didn't look away until Kenny nodded in compliance.

"Rest a moment, Cody. Get your bearings and wits back. When it's time to spar, I require you to man up."

As Jannalyn straightened, she also adjusted her white tank top and smoothed out her khaki capris. She chose her attire that morning with purpose- despite personal discomfort with showing so much skin around inquisitive youngsters. Her aim was to desensitize the group. Hopefully, by the end of the day, a few scars on a stranger would still set off cautionary alarms, but not cause them to run from a fight.

Jannalyn showed the group four more moves, all designed to quickly incapacitate.

"The goal is to rip limbs away, or at the very least, break bones and tear tendons, then move to the next threat."

For the next two hours, the sound of bodies hitting hard soil could be heard, as the group practiced on each other, over and over again. Partners were rotated often, so all could learn to quickly adapt to changes in height and weight.

Everyone had bruises and sore muscles, and most wanted to quit from exhaustion...and then Jannalyn wanted to see how their wolves fared.

Shift and switch, shift and switch- she wanted to see how fast they could do it at will. Run, sprint, run- she ran along side their wolves, barking for them to move faster. Run, shift, sprint, jump, switch- she observed like a general would an army and made corrections when necessary.

Everyone agreed. Training under Jannalyn was Hell- the ninth circle of Hell. 'Fuck my life' was the general sentiment muttered among the adolescents and in consensus, the group asked for a break.

The last rays of the day were disappearing. It was roughly 7 p.m., dinner time for most, but under the time constraints of possible war, they didn't have time to go home and eat. The group needed to learn quickly but all looked tired and famished.

"Fine... twenty minutes." She made a shooing motion with her hands and leaned against the barn.

The women threw on loose dresses and high tailed it to the farmhouse for iced drinks and deli sandwiches, courtesy of Bert.

But the males didn't bother to cover themselves. They drank copious amounts of water from a garden hose in the yard, drenching themselves as they did so. Steam rolled off their bodies as the water evaporated on contact, like droplets of water sprinkled on a hot skillet. Their bodies had been pushed too far without proper hydration, so she made amendments on how the remainder of training would be carried out.

Abby came out of the house, carrying a glass of tea complete with a garnish of lemon, and headed straight to Jannalyn. Kenny tried to take the glass from her hands to deliver it to Jannalyn, but Abby batted his hands away. Her very pregnant form, made the trek to the barn, wobbling the whole way.

"You didn't have to-" Jannalyn started.

"Yes, I did." Abby held out the glass and Jannalyn couldn't turn it down. "It was a fine excuse to get out and stretch for a minute. Being cooped up all day doesn't suit me."

"Mmm." Jannalyn agreed. She could relate. "Thank you."

"How're ya holdin' up?" Abby asked, and Jannalyn raised a brow. "Bert told me." Abby said simply.

"So everyone knows now." Abby nodded. "It's true. The Ripper is a former moniker. Is that why you came out here? Needed to confirm for yourself?" Jannalyn asked defensively.

"No, silly. It doesn't matter. Not to me." Abby closed the distance between them, her belly in the way the entire time, an obvious and blatant show of trust. "I asked how you were holdin' up, because I'm guessing all of this," she wildly gestured all around with her arms, "is putting you into a nasty mindset."

Jannalyn sighed. Too damn observant, that one. "It is, a little, but I can handle it."

"Good. Now, come pet this baby. I worry when he doesn't move, but he seems to wake when you're near." Without futher suggestion, Jannalyn placed a hand on Abby's stomach, immediately feeling an arm or leg pressing back. "Ahh, there he is."

For several moments, both silently communed with the life growing in Abby's stomach. A tiny life who seemed to follow Jannalyn's hand, no matter where she placed it. It was strange and beautiful and for a moment, she wished...

No, it's not an option. There was absolutely no part of Jannalyn that could justify birthing any dark haired, grey eyed children, nor could she allow any romanticized thoughts to linger too long. She would never condemn a child to having the Ripper or the Beast as a parent.

"Time's almost up. I better go, gotta pee again."

* * *

><p>"She's fine, Alcide." Abby said over the phone line for what seemed like the hundredth time. Bert tried to listen in as Abby rolled her eyes for the fifth time in a row. "Uh-uh. Nope. She's fine. Everyone's fine. Everything is fine."<p>

"You better not! Show up and she'll think you don't trust her to do right by you." Alcide said something else and Abby's fist came down on the table, rattling dishes and silverware into the receiver. "Fine, ruin your chances. Nothing says _I trust you_ better than spying. You'll drive her away with this lovesick puppy shit!"

Abby huffed loudly. "Fine, act like a lunatic stalker. See ya in a few." Abby hung up. Ten seconds later her phone rang again. Alcide again. "Brother, I'mma kick your ass. Do you wanna speak to her? I could holler... Then stop calling. I'll drop her off when she's done."

* * *

><p>Two hours after sunset, Julien had arrived on the Monroe property, with the group for the night's run. He could hear the commotion of shuffling feet, low growls, and muffled orders from the barn, so he went to investigate. He found the women and adolescents naked, silently standing in a ring, watching in rapt attention. The sounds that drew his attention continued. They were watching a fight.<p>

He moved closer and found his shifted daughter squaring off with Cody's much larger wolf, as a heavily scarred woman, Jannalyn he presumed, crouched down like a referee in a wrestling match. She was on all fours, at floor level to carefully watch their movements. In a flash, Jannalyn jumped between the wolves to grab both Megan and Cody by the snouts. The switched usually don't jump between fighting or sparring wolves, no matter how young, but she stared him in the eyes, showed no fear whatsoever as she spoke menacingly.

"You're holding back."

She then turned to the sandy colored wolf of his Nutmeg.

"The goal is to go for the throat. If you can't find an opening, bite him in the _fucking face_ until he gives you one." Megan's wolf nodded and her shoulders squared, to prepare for another attack.

Jannalyn sniffed and her eyes drifted over to the new presence in the barn- the group of men, standing aghast with open mouths. Her greys moved to Melinda, a silent inquiry if the men were welcome.

"My mate, the Beta. They're preparing for the run."

Jannalyn let go of snouts and stood between the two wolves, still staring each other down and growling. "Which one is the Beta?"

"I am, Julien Delacroix." Julien answered, throwing a quick glance at his mate to check for injuries. Melinda winked at him, their personal sign to each other, that all was alright. His eyes went over to Kenny, who nodded in greeting, but quickly avoided his gaze. Call it father's intuition, but he knew his son screwed up today.

"I think we're done for the night. Tomorrow, same time." Jannalyn said to the group. "A few words?" she asked in Julien's direction.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Beyond earshot and please, call me Jannalyn." Jannalyn walked out of the barn as Julien followed, ignoring the murmurs of the pack greeting one another. They walked passed the cornfield, passed a soybean crop, and disappeared into the dense tree line. Finally, she leaned against a tree and observed Julien for a minute.

"Do the boys know what happens to captured females?"

"I'm not sure. Why do you ask?"

"I wasn't sure if it was appropriate to disclose the details to the young ones, for motivational purposes."

"If they need motivation, tell them. They're all old enough to be told."

She nodded and an awkward silence filled the air, almost deafening with the weight of whatever was on her mind. Julien knew there was more she wanted to say or ask, but was probably trying to find the best way to broach the subject.

"How was training?" he asked, knowing whatever it was, had to be training related.

"The women are faring better, all across the board. They're learning quickly, gaining confidence in their abilities." There was another significant pause that indicated there was an issue.

"And the boys?" he prompted.

"The eldest ones have... issues. Kenneth is hot-headed. Cody is impulsive. Johnny Matthews seems to be the most balanced but he's a strict follower, he doesn't think for himself. Otherwise, the three seem to be devoted to pack."

"And the rest?"

"The youngest five... they follow orders, but I see many shortcomings and no real desire to protect one another."

"I have to ask, why are you telling me instead of Alcide?"

"Because you know them, far better than I do, far better than Alcide. I suppose, I'm asking for your insight, before I go to Alcide with these concerns."

"Alright, tell me what you observed today." Julien also leaned against a tree, getting himself comfortable while he heard her out.

"As a group, they are far from cohesive. They lack any confidence whatsoever, in themselves, of their pack brothers. I know my appearance is a factor, but one growl and they cower, especially the youngest, Troy..." Jannalyn went on to tell Julien of any note worthy observations during the last six hours, concerning the youngest five.

In turn, Julien asked she give the boys another chance, due to the extreme lack of education under Marcus. And so it was decided, one more day of training and observations, before going to Alcide.

* * *

><p>Going home to a silent and empty house was nothing new. He'd been here before, the many times Debbie left for a week long binge on V, or the numerous times she left for some asshole who promised a mark and babies.<p>

But this was different. Coming home to a silent and empty house never felt like this before.

Alcide's first instinct was to go to the Monroe property, but Abby was right. His appearance on the first day of training would be construed as a lack of trust, so he stayed put.

He showered and dressed, prepared dinner and ate, but his mind and body screamed to be near her, to see her, to make sure she was okay. He even went so far as to sit in the truck for a few minutes to debate the matter, almost turning the ignition, but at the last second, decided against it.

So he cleaned. He tidied up the entire lower level, washed every stitch of his laundry, vacuumed every square inch of carpet, only to go running to his bed where her scent still lingered. _Aww, fuck no._ Her scent was beginning to fade a little.

He eyed Jannalyn's little white plastic hamper with a few items to be laundered. _No, don't be a freak. Don't go over there to sniff. Fuck!_

Again, he went outside to the truck (dressed in a white tank, pajamas pants, and house slippers- the standard uniform of slightly pissed or deranged husbands across the U.S. of A) only to end up in a kitchen chair, listening to the slow tick-tocks of a clock to wait.

Fourteen hours. Fourteen hours and twenty seven minutes since he last saw Jannalyn.

_Go, go to mate._ -His wolf commanded.

_No. No, I won't._ -The man argued back.

Alcide heard a car pulling into the driveway, and he tried,_ tried_ to stay seated. The door knob jingled and he was up, moving towards the door to greet her.

"Finally," he muttered, as his arms went around Jannalyn's waist to lift her from the floor in a hug, his nose automatically seeking the pulse point in her neck for a long needed sniff. Her arms tightened around his neck and shoulders... and he could finally breath in relief.

She pulled back a little to look at his face. "You alright?" she asked in concern, her nails lightly scratched from his neck to back in an attempt to soothe.

"I was gonna ask you the same."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know.  
><strong>


	15. Coming Clean

**A/N: You were warned in the beginning.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Fifteen: Coming Clean**

* * *

><p><em>Instructor. <em>She thought the task would be...manageable. But the first twenty minutes in, showed _any_ combative mindset was hard on her nerves. Hard on her psyche.

Sifting through dark memories was a necessary evil. It was the only way to extract a handful of moves that proved effective despite size differentials. Unfortunately, the process of shutting it all down before those memories played out to grisly ends, only worked half the time.

As a result, nameless faces lingered in her thoughts all day; angry distorted faces of ghosts with unfinished business. Vivid reminders of the monster she was and continues to be. A monster whose only_ real_ skill in life is to _take_ life.

Jannalyn thought her soul made peace with the past, but today, a grim reality punched her in the gut.

A set of numbers were mentally assigned to everyone in the group. The first number was how many seconds each individual would last in a fight, however, the second number was the startling number- it was the order in which to take them out.

When she realized what she'd done, it nearly drove her mad. Her insides felt putrid and diseased. She drowned in a simmering jumbled mass of swirling guilt, self-loathing, and a few other sentiments she couldn't define or comprehend.

There were moments that she wanted to weep, fall to her knees and ask forgiveness, hoping to cleanse the filth from her soul... but she reined it in. They could _never_ know the numbers she assigned. She maintained a poker face composure and pushed the group harder- she had to.

The new faces surrounding her, the faces of the women and adolescents, would not join the ones that haunt her conscience.

In the back of her mind, she expected Alcide to show up, per the agreed stipulations. She hoped he would, to provide distraction at the very least, but he hadn't... and after a while, worry for the Packmaster also joined the swirling mass of emotions in her gut.

By the time the Beta arrived, her insides were so tightly coiled, that she was done for the day. Six hours was enough. There was no more energy to allocate, nothing to distract from the drain of emotional turmoil. She was tired. Beaten.

And now, greeted with such enthusiasm, held by Alcide, wrapped in his strong arms and enveloped by his warmth...it made up for the hell she endured today. The tight coil melted away and was replaced by a warm, gooey feeling that left her limp and pliable in his arms. Her feet were still dangling a foot from the floor, but she didn't mind. Not in the least.

"I've gotten you dirty." A half day's dust and sweat coated her skin and Alcide was wearing a good portion of it, thanks to their rushed and prolonged embrace.

"I can take another shower," he murmured into her neck, still breathing deep and still not letting go.

"Let's go take one," Jannalyn murmured back.

Despite mental and emotional exhaustion, right now, she needed to become clean again, but couldn't fathom anymore separations from Alcide. Something shifted inside, deep down in her bones. Something felt a little more whole and a little more sane with Alcide around, and Jannalyn didn't have the energy to retract (or think her way out of) the invitation- not after the day she's had.

Alcide loosened his grip, trying to figure out if he heard her correctly, as her body slid down to gracefully land on her feet. She turned into the laundry room to disrobe, and threw the soiled stinky clothes into the washer.

"It smells clean in here. I'm not tracking dirt through the house." In nothing but white cotton panties, Jannalyn grabbed his hand and started pulling him through the house to the stairs. They were taking a damn shower together- whether he felt it was inappropriate or not.

"Cody is staying with Abby for the night." Jannalyn could empathize with the young man. She knew the weight of guilt and the damage it inflicts on a person's soul and self image. Cody needed to know his value, needed to know others are counting on him, so it was his job to 'protect and watch over' the Packmaster's pregnant sister for the night. Besides, Abby has an unconventional way of being irritating and comforting at the same time, and Jannalyn hoped Abby would work her magic on the depressed teen.

"Wait a minute. What're we doing?" He couldn't believe it. Did she arrange for them to be alone?

"We're taking a shower," Jannalyn said, not an ounce of hesitation in her voice, like showering together was a natural and reoccurring activity.

Either Alcide jumped aboard the coo-coo train headed for Crazyville or his mind was playing lustful tricks on him again...he couldn't decide. But Jannalyn continued to pull him along, her cute little ass walking through the house in nothing but drawers. Who was this woman and what exactly did she have planned?

There was a need to question her further, but Alcide felt compelled to forego curiosity and just go with the flow. Something in her relaxed demeanor demanded and expected no argument, and her nearly nude state ensured total compliance. As he followed her agile body slinking up the stairs to the bathroom, he grinned like a kid who found a jackpot sized cookie at the bottom of a cookie jar.

Alcide watched in the doorway, as she gathered towels and washcloths, and adjusted the water temperature. He took off his tank and stepped out of his pajama pants near the door to give her a little more space in the bathroom, just in case she changed her mind. Her panties dropped to her ankles and with a single look over her shoulder she stepped in, disappearing behind the navy blue shower curtain.

Wordlessly, he followed her in, suppressing the urge to crowd her with his proximity and scent. Instead, he leaned against the cool tile and allowed his eyes to roam freely while she shampooed her hair and rinsed the day down the drain.

Jannalyn's head tilted back to rinse away bubbles and with her neck extended, the skin stretched. The outline of a perfect surgical scar appeared- an inch from her collar bone to just below the chin, down one side of her throat. Until now, Alcide was completely oblivious to the medical scar, but he had a sneaking suspicion his wolf knew it was there all along and wanted to lick it this morning.

She changed places with Alcide to give him access to the shower head, while she lathered up a washcloth. She stepped forward and carefully rubbed the skin of his neck, working in slow circles, moving outwards to his shoulder. Her grey eyes followed purposeful hands as she wiped at the chords of muscles in his arms, making sure to scrub away every speck of dirt she left there.

Her hands moved to his chest and he fought to keep from groaning. The soft touches, the gentle glide of soapy hands..._If she'd only go lower_- he thought. He could fall asleep with her hands roaming... or maybe not. Blood rushed to the less civilized part below and it stood half mast. He tried to will it down, with little success.

_Barbara Walters. Barbara Walters, naked. Fuck, it's not working._ It was a well used technique, time tested since his senior year in high school, but his inner horny bastard couldn't ignore Jannalyn's scent and nude presence.

Jannalyn's chin met her chest to look down. She stared at the protrusion for a few seconds and wondered if she should wash him any lower than his stomach. _Is this appropriate? Ugh, the shit you get yourself into Jan_- she mentally grumbled. She peeked up at his face through her eyelashes and he smirked at her obvious curiosity and hesitation.

But Alcide's curiosity ruled the moment. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

"What's all this about?" He gestured at the lather on his skin.

"I don't know," she whispered, sounding a little bewildered. "I needed- I thought it would settle some confusion."

"And how does showerin' together settle confusion?"

Jannalyn frowned. "It doesn't." Her expression morphed into a thoughtful one, speculative and unsure. "I think, maybe we should discuss what's going on, between us."

"Yeah, we should." He agreed. They could talk about whatever she wanted at this point, as long as she stayed close. A hard lesson was learned today. Long separations aren't good, for him or his wolf.

"You first." Both entreated simultaneously. Jannalyn was fishing, throwing out the line to see what she could catch, but Alcide was onto her, only because he was doing the same.

"You brought it up, and this shower is your idea," he countered with a smirk.

Her hands stilled. What nerve she has to stand here trying to discuss the dynamics between them, when she's been keeping a very big secret, bigger than her former life as the Ripper of the Pits. It would be wrong (and possibly life threatening) to condemn a potential partner to her condition without full disclosure and so far, she hasn't mentioned her Beast.

In that moment, it was decided- he needs to know the truth, no matter how ugly. An omission of a very relevant truth is still very much a lie, no matter how well it's contained or swept under the rug.

The Beast is an inclusive part of the combo, bound to make an appearance sooner or later, and it was about time Alcide knew of the monster he's been sleeping next to at night. And she had to wonder, if he had known from the beginning, whether they would've slept in the same bed at all. She doubted it.

"I have something important to tell you. I...I have an alternate personality." Jannalyn rushed it out before she could change her mind and refused to look away. She couldn't. She needed to witness his reaction.

This was a do or die moment; standing before the object of her desires, mentally exhausted, emotionally and physically bare, but prepared for reality to kick her in the teeth with size thirteen steel toed boots.

He wiped water from his brow and reached to cup her face. "We all struggle with our wolves, sometimes," he consoled, but she winced.

"No, I don't mean my wolf." She took his hand from her face and held it between both of hers. "You met it briefly, the Beast, in the laundry room on the first night. Ludwig thinks it's a manifestation of survival instincts. It's dangerous, the most dangerous part of me, and I thought you should know before things became complicated."

The image of how Jannalyn looked that night came rushing back into his mind. The way she crouched, the way her back arched forward...she looked more animal than human in a switched state. The white hot blaze of her eyes, but there was _nothing_ there. Nothing in those eyes of hers, where he normally saw the emotions she tried to hide.

Nothing. Nothing but a promise of death...and it was directed at him.

Alcide took in a sharp breath, snatched his hand away, and moved to the other end of the shower, so he could breathe. His hulking figure stood with his back turned and clenched fists.

With the three feet of distance he put between them, she could feel it- whatever this had been was coming to a close. It was dissipating before her eyes, like a morning fog meeting the sun's rays, and there was nothing she could do about it. Telling him was the right thing to do, but she couldn't draw comfort from doing the right thing. Not this time. Her confession was a deal breaker, a flaw Alcide couldn't accept nor tolerate.

Meanwhile, Alcide was beyond angry, pissed that fate kept throwing him damaged women. First, a drug addict and chronic cheater in Debbie, and now, one with a notorious past and mental issues? Why couldn't he have someone normal like everybody else? Had he done something in a past life that warranted such bullshit?

His wolf snarled at him._ Mate. Protect mate._

_From what?_ he mentally snapped back, but the voice of his conscience promptly spoke up.

Who was he to judge? Wasn't he just arguing with his wolf? Part of being a were is the constant balancing act between two very separate parts, the animal and the man. Some can blend the two without issues, but for others, finding a functioning medium is impossible. He's heard stories of the ones who couldn't handle the duality. Those folks are in an asylum for their kind, the Yosef Behavioral Institute, somewhere in Nevada.

He contemplated the startling news for a minute. Could he really fault Jannalyn for being the way she is, considering the rumors of her upbringing? _Every warm touch signaled violence_- his mind reminded. Under the same circumstance of constant cruelty, could he say he wouldn't have turned out the same, or worse?

The word_ hypocrite_ bounced around in his mind and fuck, if his conscience wasn't right. That's what the wolf meant by protect mate, he meant to protect her from hypocrisy and rushed judgments- his own.

Her confession was a reality check and it forced him to think of the cycle of deception he's lived, for so long.

Deception has many names. A single overlooked lie, a single dismissed omission, a single unchallenged half truth, even the small ones we tell ourselves- is how it starts, but any kind of relationship built on a foundation of lies, only breeds a perpetual state of suspicion and doubt, like the kind of relationship he had with Debbie; a tumultuous, on again-off again, string of lies and discrepancies for a large part of his life.

That's why he couldn't forgive Debbie again. Telling a lie was second nature and accepting her lies, accepting less than the whole truth had become a necessary standard on his part, an expectation on hers.

That was the clencher. Alcide couldn't tell the difference between the truth and a lie anymore, and as the years passed, he found he did he want to know either way. It was easier to live with the abridged versions of Debbie's indiscretions, easier to function with knowing _enough_, because knowing _everything_ meant assigning blame and meant seeing ugly and unforgivable truths.

And Alcide realized, he tried to do the same with Jannalyn and her past. He tried to put blinders on from the very beginning. He suspected, but he didn't want to know facts or details, never did.

It took brass balls the size of Mexico for Jannalyn to disclose the worst part of herself, something so negative and damaging to a potential partner. But she did it. She laid the most damning card on the table, so Alcide knew exactly what he was getting himself into, so he could make an informed decision...but had he done the same?

Was the confession any worse than what he's been hiding? The fact that his wolf chose her as his mate? The fact that Bert thinks they are the Third Alpha Pair in all of werewolf history?

By now, all of the pack knew Jannalyn's significance to Alcide and to the Long Tooth, but Jannalyn was still in the dark. Had no clue. What's worse, is that everyone is actively keeping the secret on his behalf, when Jannalyn is half of the secret itself.

What would happen if she found out by accident, or worse, from someone else? Would she forgive him, or better yet, could she trust him afterwards?

Slowly, he turned around, water dancing off of his large frame as he passed beneath the spray. He lifted her chin, pressed a delicate kiss on her forehead for being the biggest asshole alive, and moved long dark hair from her shoulders.

"I have somethin' to tell you, too" he whispered, as he mimicked her previous motions with a soapy washcloth of his own.

* * *

><p>Trying to concentrate on the Merlotte's books was a disaster, so Sam gave up an hour ago. He mingled with semi-inebriated patrons to distract himself from Luna, but ended up alone in his office again, worrying his lip and wallowing in self-pity.<p>

The cellphone in his waiting hand was an awful reminder that they weren't speaking. _Goddammit!_- Three signal bars. No missed calls. No text messages. Nothing from Luna.

Sam wanted to respect her "space" or whatever the hell she needed at the moment, just as Emory and Suzanne advised, but he couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Lafayette, you gotta drain the oil tonight." Sam reminded with a slap on the pick up counter as he passed. Of course, Lafayette had a comeback, full of sexual innuendo that Sam willed himself to ignore. It wasn't beyond Lafayette to "mock bang" the sink, enthusiastically thrusting his hips into it or any other inanimate object when in a lively mood, only Sam didn't care to laugh at Lafayette's overtly homosexual antics. He just wasn't in the mood tonight.

John Quinn was back, drinking beer at the bar and chatting it up with very enamored Holly. Hormones were rolling off that woman in waves, despite the innocent conversation between them about humid Bon Temps weather.

Holly's pupils were dilated, her cheeks and lips were slightly tinged with natural red, and her temperature was raised a whole degree and a half. Sam knew what was going on. He's seen it before, every month actually, from all the fertile women he's ever worked with. Holly had just hit the most receptive days after ovulation and driven by pure human instinct, her attention went to the strongest man -or creature- in the room, Quinn.

Quinn's deep chuckles could be heard, amused that Holly had no idea the kind of signal she was sending out, not that any human males would know. Her scent practically screamed- take me now, in front of everybody, and on the bar please- however, the fact that human males were oblivious, made it even funnier.

_The human race is screwed. They can't see a green light when it's three feet away_- Quinn thought, as he observed a clueless Andy Bellefleur sitting two stools over.

Sookie heard Quinn's thoughts and Sam noticed she was glaring at the weretiger again. She kept her distance by staying in her assigned area, but that didn't mean she'd stay there when Sam left. The shifter strolled over to issue a threat of cutting her hours down to a couple of shifts, if there was a repeat of the other night.

"I know, Sam. No trouble. I'm leaving at ten, anyway," Sookie looked down to her watch. "I think I can keep my mouth shut for another twenty minutes."

"You're not gonna run your mouth at him, off the clock either. Not here. I mean it, Sook."

"Actually, he agreed to tell me all about the bound to a vampire stuff, after work." Sookie whispered as low as possible, knowing Sam would hear her anyway.

Sam quickly turned to look in Quinn's direction, who discreetly nodded. "Fine. Don't talk here though. I don't wanna have messes to clean and bodies to bury when I get back." Quinn nodded again, so Sam knew he'd been heard. "Crazy ass people, kill each other somewhere else..." he mumbled on his way out the door.

* * *

><p>Jannalyn listened in silence and tried to absorb the magnitude of Alcide's words, as the washcloth made another slow circle on her skin. He spared no details as he washed her, but he wouldn't make eye contact.<p>

It didn't matter though. At least he filled in the gaps of missing information that Jannalyn so desperately craved. However, Alcide's explanation for not telling her right away and keeping it a secret, surprised Jannalyn.

"I didn't know how to tell you. Think of how it sounds... my wolf chose you and by the way, we might be the Third Alpha Pair in all of werewolf history. I figured, if I dropped that bomb on you, you woulda thought I was nuts. And after Sam broke the news... I suspected the Ripper wouldn't appreciate feelin' trapped. I imagined that wouldn't go over well... that you'd leave."

Silly man. Who was she to judge anyone on the topic of sanity? He didn't know it, but she would have considered the old man's theory. They _are_ supernatural creatures after all, creatures who shouldn't exist, but do. In their world, it's negligent to dismiss myths and legends as false or useless information.

Alcide dropped the washcloth and reached for her hand to place it over his heart. He finally looked her in the eyes.

"I want you to choose _me_, to choose _this life_ and everything that comes with being _my mate_, and not out of some fucked up sense of obligation to the theories of a pack historian either."

He wasn't lying. She could tell by the steady rhythm his heartbeats, the conviction in his voice, his steady and unwavering gaze. With the words put so plainly, in this instance, could she call an omission a lie if it protected her freedom of choice? _Holy shit, that sounded like...is he asking?_- she thought.

It seemed Alcide no longer had a choice on the matter, his wolf is resigned to the idea, but what of her choices? There had to be a reason she doesn't cringe away from his warmth, but gravitates towards it.

Alcide worried when she seemed to go still again, but he reminded himself- _Give her a minute, she's thinking hard._ He was almost startled when she blinked.

"So, you want to be _mine_?" she asked.

"If you'll have me."

"But I'm dangerous. I've killed many."

"I know. Don't care." As if to prove his point, he moved closer until he felt her hardened nipples, barely touching the skin on his stomach.

"You should," she said. "You barely know me." His arms slid around her waist and he pulled her in.

"I'll learn." He felt her grimace against his muscles. She didn't seem convinced, nor did she give him an answer. "C'mon, let's rinse off. Water's gettin' cold."

Soon, both Alcide and Jannalyn were wrapped in towels, standing side by side at the sink. Jannalyn worked on combing through damp, unruly hair, as Alcide brushed his teeth. When he was done, it was her turn to brush teeth...

He watched in the mirror.

Lurked in the doorway.

Always watching.

Jannalyn didn't know if Alcide always paid this much attention or if it was a by-product of her confession. The bedroom wasn't any better. She quickly dressed into a nightgown, but still felt his eyes, almost raking at her skin.

Alcide took his sweet time finding something to wear, pranced around in the towel draped around his hips for no reason. Although Jannalyn enjoyed the view, she recognized his movement as pacing, perhaps stalling as well.

Still watching.

His eyes didn't leave her and he hadn't dressed yet.

He kept his distance for several more minutes and she'd finally had enough.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. She occupied her normal spot on the bed, waiting for some warmth to go to sleep. Alcide shook his head and scrubbed at his face, something Jannalyn knew to be a indication of frustration.

"I gotta hang back for a sec. It'll go down in a minute."

"I don't understand."

"I'm tryna be respectful here. My body ain't cooperatin' and my wolf, he wants to... I dunno." The rest of his words were mumbled. "This shit's fuckin' crazy."

Jannalyn fought the compulsion to roll her eyes. She specifically recalls dry humping in the kitchen this morning, so they were well beyond the point of respectful or shy boundaries. She patted his pillow softly and raised a brow when he shook his head no.

"I really do need a minute."

"You confound me. I don't understand why an erection is keeping you from my side. If you're mine, don't I have to become accustomed to..." Jannalyn's eyes scanned the sheets, left to right repeatedly, then her shoulders slumped. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he didn't want to sleep next to her now. "Would you rather I sleep elsewhere?"

"No." Alcide rushed out. "No. I just figured-" Her words sunk in- _if you're mine,_ she said- it meant she wasn't opposed to and was perhaps _leaning_ towards the idea.

On their own, his feet began to move towards the bed, dropping the towel as Jannalyn moved over, welcoming Alcide into her waiting arms. He settled in next to her in their normal positioning- Alcide lying on his back and Jannalyn curled into his side, careful to avoid his erection.

"Does it hurt?" Alcide's head turned to look down at her on his shoulder. "That," her eyes shifted downwards to his groin, "it looks painful." Alcide has a nice, uniform olive complexion, but his male part had an angry purple tinge and the veins in it looked strained.

He almost laughed because of the way she was looking at it, a mixed expression of fascination and concern.

"No, it aches but doesn't hurt. Not yet, anyway."

Her horrified face shot up to look at him with wide eyes, and it was only then, that he realized just how inexperienced she was with the opposite sex. _Maybe she wasn't intimate with Northman or with Quinn..._and her following words confirmed it.

"I'm sorry if my presence keeps you in suffering. I had no idea-"

Alcide silenced her with a kiss, tender and sensuous. He took her hand and let it slide down over his six pack abs and further still to grip the base of his cock. She feverishly dove into the kiss, her heartbeat growing faster and faster.

"Touch me." He begged against her lips. Fuck, he sounded desperate, but didn't really care at the moment.

Her hand began to move, slowly up his shaft. She broke from the kiss and looked down again when she felt slippery wetness weeping from the end. It felt nice on her fingers and made the surface of veiny delicate skin feel incredibly smooth. It was equally strange and fascinating to feel the contradiction in her hand; so hard and heavy, but soft and silky, too. Alcide's large hand grasped hers to show her the motion, slowly moving it up and down. With labored breaths, he seemed to swell further in her hand by the time she made three firm passes.

He groaned a low 'mmm', and her eyes shot to his face. His hooded eyes on hers, his lips slightly parted, she could feel his stomach muscles clenching against her arm with every upstroke.

"I'm gonna- fuck," he panted out. He didn't want it to end, but the pleasure coursing through his body was mounting and an orgasm was approaching fast. "Ugh," he grunted, as hot white liquid erupted from the tip in streams, the spurts landing on his stomach and chest. Alcide relaxed completely, sunk further into the bed with gelatinous limbs, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

Five deep breaths later, Alcide gathered the discarded towel to wipe up the creamy mess. He smirked when he spied Jannalyn giving her fingers a curious sniff and when her tongue slid out to taste his essence, he was hard again.

Without thinking, he had her pinned, kissing her thoroughly until she was a breathless heap on the bed. "Your turn." His lips traveled down her neck as his hands ripped away the white cotton nightgown. He descended lower to her breasts, swirling his tongue around the peaks, lightly sucking at the same time. She gasped as her back arched of the bed, forcing more breast into his mouth, and with a grin, he ripped her panties away. Open mouthed kisses fell onto her stomach and traveled lower to her dark curls.

"What...what are you doing?" she asked in alarm, as he draped her thighs over his massive shoulders.

"What my wolf's been dying to do."

* * *

><p>Sam pulled into Luna's driveway and saw her shadow in a window, peeking out a him. As he walked towards the house, the smell of wolf assaulted his senses. He couldn't identify the scent as familiar and it smelled relatively stale. After a few more sniffs to the air, it grew stronger, the closer he moved to the door.<p>

Whoever it is- is still here...and has been here for days.

"Open up, Luna!" he yelled, while pounding on the door. "You wanna explain to me what I'm smellin'! Fuckin' Christ! How could ya do this to me? Send him out!"

With that yelled statement, Sam was practically pissing all over Luna's lawn. He verbally marked territory, so whomever was inside would know Luna is tied and Sam had every intention of keeping it that way.

Luna didn't plan on letting him in, but upon hearing the accusation of infidelity, she rushed to open the door. A tanned hand appeared out of nowhere and slapped Sam in the face.

"Fuck you, Sam Merlotte. Don't you _ever_ insinuate I'd cheat on you."

Sam rubbed at his cheek, 'cause that slap stung like a motherfucker but with the door pried open, the scent of wolf hit him hard. With a deep furious intake of breath, he moved passed Luna and walked in to find a tiny little scrap of a pup, tearing into the remnants of a seat cushion.

The pup's little ears perked up and she abandoned the current chew toy to greet him, her tail wagging a mile a minute. She stood on hind legs and tried to peer up at his face, panting and whining for attention.

Comprehension dawned on the shifter. "Emma?"

"Ding, ding, ding." Luna sighed out. "Fuck Sam, what am I gonna do? She's hasn't switched in nearly twenty four hours."

"Aww, Em." Sam tsked, worried about his step-daughter's inability to switch back. The incredibly cruel introduction to two-natured life was too early. Neither Sam nor Luna had the chance to give Emma 'the talk' yet. _She's eight. Dear God, she's eight_- Sam thought.

Sam picked up the pup and cradled her in his arms like a baby. Emma allowed it, for all of two seconds, and her little lupine body vigorously squirmed to be put down. As soon as her tiny paws hit the floor, she took off like a bat out of hell. It was only then that Sam looked around. Luna's once impeccable home, free of clutter and messes, now looked like a disaster zone.

"Holy shit, Luna. She's tearin' you outta house and home." Sam rubbed at the back of his neck, as he traveled from room to room, noting the destruction of anything Emma could get her teeth and claws into. "We go to Alcide. He'll know what to do."

"But I don't want the pack-"

"No, Luna. A prolonged shift ain't good. Her little body will hurt for days if she doesn't switch soon."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm gonna hide now. **


	16. Coming Undone

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait everyone. Life and paying jobs got in the way, I'm sure you understand. A big thank you to all who reviewed. To those who recently followed and those who continue to follow, thanks for sticking with me! **

* * *

><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Sixteen: Coming Undone**

* * *

><p>Alcide's eyes blazed bright orange, casting a glow on the skin of her thighs. He made a strange whimpering sound as he stared at Jannalyn's feminine flesh and she grew painfully aware of what could cause the reaction. No region of Jannalyn's body was spared from her time in the Pits, except for the bottom of her feet. All other parts were inevitably damaged in some way or another.<p>

Jannalyn anticipated a negative reaction to more scars, but Alcide moved to get comfortable. He drew in a deep breath, humming low and deep as he exhaled.

Jannalyn propped herself on her elbows, watching as Alcide's mouth hovered close. _What his wolf wants to do, huh?_ He better watch his teeth. If he bit her down there, she'd...she'd...

"Oh," she moaned out.

The insane amount of pleasure created by Alcide's hot mouth was not what she expected. She was in serious trouble if a single slow lick had her gripping the sheets for something to hold onto while the room spun. The second pass of his tongue had her eyes rolling back and her toes curling to the point of cramped muscles. The third was enough to cause the sheets to rip in her hands.

_Holy shit._ What was she supposed to do right now? Was she supposed to encourage him, stop him, or what?

A moist, pink, fuzzy heat grew in her lower stomach and with every flick of his tongue, it grew tighter, hotter, wetter. The slick sensation was overwhelming and Jannalyn tried to squirm away, but a thick arm draped over her hips stopped any means of escape. Her head thrashed side to side as she fought the desire to close her legs, to hide her already sensitive bits from Alcide.

He growled for her to stay still, but she couldn't, not on her own.

Alcide exposed her further by maneuvering his forearms to mash down on her thighs, spreading her out like a buffet. His blazing eyes stared up at Jannalyn but kept going, licking and gently sucking at her glistening slit to his heart's content. The pace was tortuous. His actions- precise and methodical.

Her thighs trembled and her moans grew louder.

Before she knew what was what, her pelvic muscles clenched tightly and began to spasm out of control. The rest of her body followed suit, trembling and convulsing, as she neared the edge and toppled over it. "Ohhhh fuuuck!" she rasped out, breathlessly panting out several more incoherent expletives as short squirts of clear liquid coated Alcide's chin.

He hummed in victory at the accomplishment as he watched front row and center; only inches away as she came, as the muscles pulsed with every squirt and slowly subsided. The hottest thing he'd ever seen. Carefully, he nuzzled the inside of her thighs, spreading her juices all over his face and neck, to coat his skin with her most intimate scent.

With no mark, Alcide's wolf needed some kind of proof, something others of their kind would recognize as a small declaration of consent and intent. His inner wolf settled for Jannalyn's most potent, longest lasting scent, to calm the imperative to smell like _he_ belonged to _her_...and Alcide didn't mind smelling like Jannalyn rode his face half the night. He gave her one final lick and crawled up her body, his eyes settling on chocolate as he went.

For several moments, passionate opened mouthed kisses, tongue swirls, and nibbles were placed wherever he could reach. His hands roamed to explore her ribs, slid up her sternum and around her neck to tangle in her hair, and eventually traveled back down to squeeze at her hips and behind her knees.

She was so pliable, not a stiff muscle could be found and Alcide decided he liked being the reason behind this version of Jannalyn; the spent, post-coital Jannalyn, relaxed and ready to curl into his side for a good night's sleep.

Jannalyn raised a exhausted eyebrow at Alcide, as he touched every square inch of skin. She could smell and feel the oily sweat of his palms. Alcide was marking her, not with his teeth, but with scent- the way an Alpha marks territory. The undertones of determined urgency and the possessive nature behind it was apparent, no matter how gentle the actions. She said nothing and simply allowed it, unwilling to spurn Alcide's affections.

An errant thought developed in her mind as she watched him.

Bitches from nearby territories were sure to vie for the attention of an unmarked Packmaster and Alcide's good nature, good looks, and Alpha lineage guaranteed many would be interested. Granted, there weren't any females trying- none are on Jannalyn's radar at the moment- but it didn't escape her attention that Alcide's wolf preemptively rectified possible issues of unwanted attention, all on his own.

Carrying each others' scents served as a warning for any interested parties to keep a respectful distance during their courtship, however, it wasn't a guarantee others would respect it. Challenges would arise, more so for Jannalyn than Alcide, and the thought of fighting over Alcide made her nervous. Her challengers would die, she was positive of it and their faces would join the countless others to poke at her conscience. Unless...

The urge to claim Alcide with a bite exploded in the back of Jannalyn's brain somewhere, but the Beast internally growled out a single word.

Quinn.

It roared in a deafening decibel inside of Jannalyn's head, showing Jannalyn snippets of memories with the weretiger. His cocky smile set in copper colored skin while they tightly embraced... The time she noticed his marvelously scarred body almost matched the stripes of his tiger while swimming at Goose Lake... Quinn dressed in blood red silk, the ceremonial garb for vampire rituals.

Quinn. Always Quinn. _Stop it!_ Jannalyn internally scolded, at the treacherous and insolent other half of her psyche.

The Beast was too attached, too protective, and too possessive of Quinn. It's the primary reason Jannalyn left California all those years ago- to avoid dangerous complications that could arise from the Beast's attachment. She feared staying would eventually ruin the camaraderie between them, just as her presence was distracting Quinn from finding a proper and worthy mate.

"I need," Alcide begged in a low rough voice, but he didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. He was aligned at her entrance, rubbing the bulb of his dripping cock against her wet folds, anxiously awaiting permission to push forward.

Warm emotions stirred in her chest, at seeing Alcide's enamored gaze fixated on her. Jannalyn's hand cupped his face and sadness took over. Alcide is essentially stuck, compelled into pursuing her by the choice of his wolf, but he doesn't deserve a monster. He deserved someone equally good natured, someone he could be proud of, someone equally _good looking_; but it would be the height of foolishness to not explore the option of possible matehood with a viable and loving partner. Wouldn't it?

_Quinn_- the Beast whined, and when Jannalyn continued to ignore her pleas, the Beast took up roaring again.

_Shh. Let me think!_

Fear of the unknown dominated her thoughts and kept Jannalyn from giving in to carnal impulses. There was still too much she didn't know about intimacy with a wolf. Jannalyn likes information, likes knowing what to expect. There were too many unknown variables, especially because of her unusual medical history, and she feared the possibility of biological and psychological changes that could cause issues later on.

Biological changes. She needed to inquire about methods to avoid pregnancy, a topic never broached with Ludwig because she _never_ anticipated being in this position.

Position. The Master of a pack is expected to reproduce. If she marked Alcide, the expectation would branch out by default...

Default. Also by default, as a true Alpha pair Jannalyn would become Packmistress, which meant responsibilities. She wasn't sure what the title entailed, but she believed it unwise to jump the gun without scrutinizing every detail and every expectation beforehand.

"I'm not rejecting you, but I need more time." Jannalyn closed her eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment on his face. "We're moving too fast and I'm unprepar-" Jannalyn stilled abruptly, every muscle frozen in place with a jerk.

"Jannalyn?" As worry seized his heart, he tried to remember that Jannalyn admitted to becoming stuck in thoughts sometimes, loops of information - she said. Perhaps tonight had been too much stimulation, too much to process after a stressful day and night of shower confessions. Either way, his gut told him the night's activities needed to stop, right here and now.

Slowly, Jannalyn opened her eyes and Alcide was relieved, until he noticed her eyes were empty slates of grey.

"Jannalyn?" There was no response, even though she looked directly into his eyes. The worry was replaced with fear as he remembered what Jannalyn called her alternate personality. "Beast?" he questioned softly.

One side of her mouth twitched back in acknowledgment.

"Oh fuck."

Faster than Alcide could react, he was slammed onto his back, with his arms folded above his head.

* * *

><p>There weren't many open public places in Bon Temps past ten in the evening, other than hole-in-the-wall dives; the wannabe bars with no more than a bartender and a few seedy individuals as patrons. So after clocking out, Sookie waited on the hood of her beat up yellow Gremlin to see where the weretiger wanted to meet for their discussion.<p>

And of course, Quinn took his sweet time finishing the last two gulps of beer, purposely sipping the last few ounces in procrastination. Just a few days ago, Sookie witnessed Quinn guzzle down the contents of Merlotte's largest pilsner in less than a minute; and she couldn't understand the hold up.

Another ten minutes had gone by and Quinn was still seated at the bar, chatting it up with a slightly blushing Holly without a refill order. Sookie grew irate when she realized what Quinn was doing.

"Ugh, c'mon," she complained as she watched Quinn flirt through the big windows.

Quinn's head flew back and she heard a deep muffled laugh. His head turned in Sookie's direction and then he looked down to his watch. He smirked and turned to exchange a few more words with Holly, despite the audience.

Two hundred eighty pounds of towering man-tiger rose from the stool and leaned over the bar to whisper something into Holly's ear. Whatever he whispered had the bartender blushing brighter than a cooked lobster, right in front of an exasperated and disgruntled Andy.

As Quinn and Holly laughed together, Sookie decided to give up on the promised conversation. She could be home right now, soaking in a tub to ease the tension in her legs from an eight hour shift, instead of waiting for Quinn to come out. Still, his dismissal pissed her off.

"Fuckin' figures," Sookie muttered with a shake of her head as she hopped from the hood. Quinn has shown nothing but disdain towards her, so she wasn't surprised by the blow off to chase tail.

Keys in hand, she went around the hood to the driver's side and let herself in. She grabbed the handle to slam the door shut, but a large hand stopped the door from closing.

"I thought I told you to stay out of my head." Quinn growled out.

"I wasn't in your head," she sassed, mimicking his tone and growl, "and I don't have to be, to guess the dirty things you probably whispered. Guy's thoughts are generally the same under the influence of alcohol."

"You don't know me well enough to jump to those conclusions and I'm not drunk."

"I didn't say you were. I said_ influenced_. Now, if you'll let go of my door..." Sookie pulled at the door to wretch it from his hand, but it didn't budge.

"What? I wasn't eager enough to answer your questions, so now you're taking off?" Quinn smirked. "A childish attitude, don't you think?"

"Like making me wait while you flirt isn't childish, when you said you'd meet me after my shift was over?"

"I agreed to meet you _after_ your shift, not at precisely ten o'one." Quinn scrutinized Sookie's face, noting her angry expression, but he couldn't believe what he was hearing. It's common knowledge that all supes use literal language in most agreements, yet Sookie was offended by terms that weren't agreed upon. And out of all species, vampires are hardly punctual, especially since most don't value time after being turned, a by-product of immortality. "Your vamp didn't teach you anything, did he?"

"Now what is_ that_ supposed to mean?" Sookie was losing it, the last semblance of control over her temper and mouth. "No, my vamps _didn't teach me anything_ and people keep saying that, instead of telling me what I should know!" Angry tears burned in her eyes, but she blinked them away to spare herself some embarrassment.

"Vamps? They shared you?"

"It's complicated, but yes, I've had two."

"Considering you're part Faerie, I'd say it's beyond complicated." Quinn huffed, exposing a little bit of pearly white teeth in a sneer. "And let me guess, not only did both fail to educate you in supernatural ways, both said your delicious faerie blood had nothing to do with how they felt about you?" Quinn wore a smug smile, because he already knew the answer before Sookie's face went pale. He's familiar with vampire methods when trying to procure a faerie hybrid, most supes are, except this chick. "They did, didn't they?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, but I'd like to hear what this bound stuff is all about?"

"Alright, but we can't speak here. Where to?" Quinn kind of felt sorry for Sookie, for falling for the oldest tricks in the book, for being taken on a ride by _not one, but two_ slick ass vamps...typical. But he also quickly decided, it wasn't any of his concern. Shede asked for information and that's precisely what she'd get.

"We could go to the waffle house off Main?" Sookie suggested.

"Fuck no. Pick a parking lot and that's where we'll talk. No offense, but I won't be seen in public with you."

"Why not? It's just coffee." Quinn raised both brows at Sookie then shook his head at how little she knew.

"Coffee? Being seen with you in public gives the wrong impression and there are rules-" he paused, "especially since you smell."

"I _don't_ stink!" Sookie pulled the neckline of the Merlotte's uniform shirt, up to her nose. "Okay, well maybe a little because I was sweatin' earlier, but it can't be as bad as you say."

"You smell like a V-head to me, like a nearly dead addict in a filthy mildewed alleyway."

Sookie's mouth dropped open, clearly offended at his description.

"Yeah, it's bad. Smelled it the first time I smelled you. It's the same intensity. When your smell didn't change after twenty four hours, I knew you were bound." Quinn let go of the door and took a step back. "We need to get going. If Sam hears of us talking out here, he'll ban me from the property. Pick a place. I'll follow you."

* * *

><p>Gears were spinning fumes in Alcide's mind, as Jannalyn -no- the Beast straddled his waist. She stared at him with a horrifyingly blank expression, an almost demonic gaze, four inches from his face. Her pupils dilated significantly; the grey of her irises disappeared into a thin, almost unnoticeable ring, making her overall appearance scarier. There were no emotions in her eyes, no light, and her grip demanded he hold fuckin' still.<p>

Her hands slid down from his wrists to his elbows, slowly working downwards, scrutinizing Alcide's non-reaction as she sat up. Her hands settled on his heaving chest. Her eyes snapped down and her senses focused on the heart thumping furiously beneath her palm. She would rip it out if need be.

She sniffed. He reeked of fear. It was pungent and strong, which was the normal reaction of males in her presence, but the alarming essence of her own arousal, all over him automatically made her leery. No. It wasn't arousal, it was ejaculate and she didn't know what to make of it. Her assessing eyes snapped up to his face, pools of black instead of grey. Her head tilted in an abrupt primitive fashion, the fluid movement of a viper.

Alcide couldn't fake it if he tried. He was afraid. Very afraid. Her black orbs almost dared him to move, silently promising he would be sorry if he did.

He forced himself to breathe normally, as he tried to figure out what it was doing, what it wanted. Several seconds passed and the Beast hadn't moved or hurt him, so Alcide forced himself to relax a little more. Alcide guessed the Beast was probably curious about the him, but his gut told him to be careful. The Beast is up to something, something Alcide couldn't quite understand.

Alcide licked his dry lips and her eyes snapped to his mouth like a gunshot. Alcide couldn't just lay there anymore. He needed to do something to help the situation, something to bring Jannalyn back.

"Beast," her eyes drifted up to his eyes and he knew he had her attention, "I'm gonna sit up now, okay?" Her head tilted the other way and she scooted backwards from his waist, planting herself over top of his manhood. Thankfully, it deflated the minute he realized his girl's alternate personality emerged.

Alcide slowly sat up, his arms automatically inching to circle her waist. The last thing he needed was a bite to the face, but he couldn't risk Jannalyn running loose in this condition.

With Alcide's thick arms in place, the Beast didn't react, not like Alcide expected anyway. He expected a fight or something that indicated protest at being confined to his lap, but the Beast merely stared at him.

"What do ya want? How do you fit in all this?"

The Beast's eyes slightly widened at this male's behavior. Strangers who acknowledged it were usually cursing it, fighting it, or running away, and no one really bothered to speak to it, other than Quinn.

Quinn.

Images and concepts filtered through the Beast's mind at the thought of the weretiger. _Quinn. Mama. Frannie. Family._ Jan is selfish. Always taking from the Beast, making the Beast go without, making the Beast do the hard work. And Quinn is close. Quinn.

She made a broken high pitched noise and Alcide recognized it for what it was- a whine.

"You don't like this, huh? Me holding onto you?"

The Beast narrowed her eyes. He was wrong in his assumption. Her noise had nothing to do with him.

For a moment, the Beast was torn- stay with new warm Alcide for Jannalyn, or find trusted Quinn for Beast. The latter option seemed more appealing and made more sense. The Beast doesn't know what to do with Alcide; but Quinn understood her without words- words she couldn't form- and he isn't afraid.

An easy choice.

Jan is selfish...and it was high time for the Beast to be selfish, too.

She tried to lift herself from his lap, but Alcide's arms tightened around her waist and hips.

"I need you to stay with me." Alcide knew he was playing with fire. If she really wanted to get away, she could, but he hoped stalling would work until Jannalyn came back.

Her eyes blazed white as a growl ripped out of her chest. Her lips peeled back, exposing her teeth in warning.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I have to keep you here. Bite me all you want, but I can't let you go."

Lightning fast, she yanked at his hair and exposed his neck. Her head snapped forward into the junction of his neck and shoulder, as teeth clamped onto the delicate skin. She bit down, but not hard enough to draw blood. She growled instead, another warning to let go.

As Alcide's heart raced, he thought of the position he's in- the submissive position of an exposed neck. Had this been anyone else, Alcide would have been compelled to re-establish dominance, to rectify the insult to his position in the pack and the blow to his masculinity.

Instead, he felt his body reacting. Inner horny bastard has struck again.

The Beast felt his arousal, the prominent hardening and lengthening of his male part under her butt. His breaths became labored and sweat began to form on his skin. She growled again and applied more bite pressure, only to be shocked into stillness when Alcide groaned and his fingers dug in to pull her closer.

"Fuck yes." It was irrational, but a true sentiment. If she bit the hell out of him now, even in this current condition, Alcide wouldn't mind. As pathetic as it sounds, he needed her mark like he needed air. He'd wear it with pride, no matter which side of Jannalyn gave it to him.

And now the Beast is confused. He's supposed to be afraid.

* * *

><p>"I don't think this is a good idea. What if they want her to join?" Luna was nervous, clutching her shifted daughter in the front seat of Sam's classic Ford Bronco, as the vehicle turned onto the main road leading into Alcide's neighborhood.<p>

"Alcide knows she's too young to pledge and he's not the type to force people into somethin' they don't want. Give the guy some credit. He's not- you know." Sam almost said Marcus, but decided it probably wasn't a good idea with Emma present. And given Luna's erratic temperament as of late, he was positive she'd flip her shit if Emma started howling again.

"Okay. He's your friend. I'll trust your judgment on this, but I swear it Sam, he better not try to take Emma-"

"Shh, cher. C'mon, we're talkin' 'bout Alcide. He runs the show now, Martha can't influence a damn thing."

* * *

><p>An ice cold fear crept in, like lead filling Jannalyn's veins. She let out a sharp gasp as she released the skin from her mouth. "Oh my God," she rasped. She saw an imprint of her teeth, but after careful inspection, she saw the skin didn't break, which meant no permanent scarring. "Are you hurt?" Jannalyn went into a full scale search for any scratches or injuries; once, twice, three times over.<p>

"I'm fine."

But Alcide didn't sound fine to Jannalyn. His voice was monotone again and he seemed disappointed. What had she done? Tremors violently ripped through Jannalyn's body as she mentally prepared for the backlash and rejection.

"Hey." Alcide tried to get her attention, but she was busy freakin' the fuck out. "Hey," he said a little louder, cupping her cheek to get her attention. "She didn't hurt me okay," he rubbed at her back, trying to calm her down. He needed to show Jannalyn that one scary episode with her alter doesn't change a damn thing, that he planned to stick around, through thick and thin. "I think she just wanted to see me, you know, to say hello."

Her attention snapped to Alcide because of the change in mood. He seemed...calm. Too calm.

"It doesn't come out to greet, Alcide. It comes out to kill."

Jan promptly shut her mouth after she caught her own discrepancy. The Beast is known to greet Quinn. As she pondered Alcide's intact state, a very prominent erection was nestled between her ass cheeks. She took in a deep breath to sniff out any evidence of sex. Unfortunately, Alcide and the entire room still smelled like orgasm central, mostly hers.

"What did it do to you? Anything? I mean... it didn't...did I...I didn't force-?"

"No." Alcide answered quickly, aware of the question troubling Jannalyn. "She touched me, stared at me a bit, and then she wanted to leave. I wouldn't let her, so she threatened me with her teeth. Then you...came out?"

"Touched you?" she gulped, and tried to keep her expressions controll, but her face melted into agony. "Touched you how?"

"She didn't molest me, if that's what you're askin'."

"Then why...are you up again?"

_Yeah, Alcide. Explain how much you like being pinned and bit._ Heat rose to his cheeks. "Umm, I kinda can't help it. You're still planted in my lap, ya know."

"Oh." She nodded, though she was on the verge of tears. "Forgive me. I should've known...My mistake almost..." Jannalyn grew frustrated at lacking the ability to properly apologize. Tested breathing techniques weren't working for her frazzled nerves, at the thought of waking to find Alcide in pieces...a horrible scenario that came close to fruition.

"Jannalyn, I'm okay."

"It wanted to see Quinn... I've been ignoring it... It knows he's close. I should have listened."

"Shh."Alcide looked down to the space between them, at her tits actually, but it was gaze devoid of any degree of lust. He waited for Jannalyn's breathing to level out before he asked the question on his mind. "This Quinn, what is he to you?"

"We have a long history, fifteen years, since the Pits." For a moment, Jannalyn saw worry etched on his face, then she saw a flash of something else, an expression that disappeared before she could name it.

"I didn't ask how you met, I asked, what is he to you?"

"My best friend. My strongest ally. I don't have a family...and the Quinns..." Guilt flooded her heart. Some friend she proved to be. She hadn't checked on Quinn knowing he's obviously unhinged enough to garner the attention of the local packmaster by fighting in public. Her apathy alone categorized her as a lousy friend, a deplorable selfish friend.

"And what is he to the Beast?"

The unexpected question snapped her out of the current inner bashing. An eerie sense of deja vu swept over Jannalyn and she tried to place it by sifting through memories. And then it hit her- this isn't the first time her relationship with Quinn came into question. She's been here before- with Godric. Her mouth opened and she shut it just as quickly, offering nothing to ease Alcide's mind for a few seconds more.

"I'm unsure, but the Beast won't kill him. Other than that, I can't give a definitive answer. I don't know what it doesn't want me to know."

The hesitation, the wording, and the fact that she had to think before answering made Alcide nervous. Greased with the acidic knowledge the weretiger has a wallet full of pictures of his mate... _with family and whatnot_ as Sam described.

The word _whatnot_ echoed around in his head. _Whatnot my ass._ Damn it! He _knew_ Sam was holding out on him, and probably did so to spare his feelings. He should've pressed Sam for more information, but at the same time, he should have understood the obvious context in the shifter's words.

Everyone knows that a man's wallet is the symbolic equivalent of the important aspects of his life; his identity, his family, his money.

Alcide quietly stewed, in a hateful mix of possessive and jealous emotions, but fear inducing thoughts slammed into the front of his mind.

Nothing tied Jannalyn to Shreveport. She didn't ask to stay, didn't ask to join the pack, didn't answer Alcide's impromptu proposal in the shower, and she somehow stopped the Beast from marking him.

Even if Quinn is nothing more than a friend, she identified the Quinns as family. Alcide suspected Quinn is a patriarch of some sort of cat pride, filling a role similar to the now deceased Calvin Norris of the Hotshot panthers. From what he understood of big cats, established families rarely disassemble, and if Jannalyn was accepted into a weretiger family, there was strong possibility that Quinn came to retrieve a strayed member.

She could leave with Quinn. She could leave. Period.

For a moment, Alcide thought he was having an anxiety attack. His throat tightened and that awful intense sinking feeling was back. "Why is he here?" he whispered, almost inaudibly.

"I don't know yet. The fight he was involved in...Quinn doesn't fight anymore, so something is bothering him."

And Alcide, he miserably failed at hiding his emotions. Jannalyn could see the stress in his body language and could sense the insecurity in his voice. She pressed a thumb to the crinkle between his brows and tried to smudge away the worry lines.

"Alcide" she whispered gently and waited for Alcide to look at her. "I have to see him soon."

"I know." Her words felt like a goodbye, so he hugged her tight and breathed in her scent.

"With you, at my side" she whispered. Alcide pulled back to look at her, surprised by the turn of events. "I haven't rejected you. I just need more time, more information...and I won't let you worry about Quinn. We meet him together."

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Both Alcide and Jannalyn turned their heads towards the sound. The rapid tapping continued, a little more urgent than before.

"The backdoor. Sounds like Sam... and Luna?" Alcide slipped away from Jannalyn to dress. "Try to get some sleep. I'll be back in a little while." With a kiss to her forehead, he left the room.

* * *

><p>"This isn't a parking lot, Stackhouse." Quinn parked in the grass, hopped off his bike, and headed straight to Sookie's parked Gremlin.<p>

"You said no public places, right? My house is only ten minutes away and I figured here is better than a random parking lot."

"Are you retarded? Or are you trying to get me killed?"

Sookie exited her vehicle and stood with crossed arms, too tired to glare at Quinn. "How does being here get you killed?"

"What do you think a bonded vampire would do, if he caught his girlfriend in the company of a strange male without his express permission?"

The word slammed into her mind like a spike to a temple. Permission? Sookie opened her mouth to say no one owned her, that she wasn't anyone's property, but Quinn spoke over her.

"Spare me the ridiculous feminine rights retort. The same would apply if your vamps were female and you were a human male. Someone owns you, so long as you smell like him. And yeah, thank you very much, for putting me in the middle of two vamps racing to claim a faerie hybrid."

"What?" Sookie blanched. Were their intentions that obvious? Apparently..if a complete stranger could tell Bill and Eric played her for a fool in some sick race to fucking own her.

"Obviously, since you're part faerie, your blood calls to vampires. Ever wonder why no other vamps are trying to drain you dry? Did you ever consider what happens, what it means when a vampire willingly offers you his blood, more than once? Did you bother to ask any questions at all?"

"So, all I had to do was ask? And they'd have to tell me?" Was anything really that simple?

Quinn nodded. "It helps if you ask privately, but yeah, the blood bond forces it. It works under the same magic of an invitation and a rescinding. _Ask and ye shall receive._ Pretty damn simple, isn't it?"

"Yeah right, like either were capable of telling the whole truth," Sookie grumbled.

Quinn chuckled out loud. "So who won the race? Do you even know?"

"I don't care at this point. I just want to know why no one told me about being bound and what it means. The first time I heard it, was when you said it, err, thought it."

"Vamps are sneaky manipulative fuckers, extremely private with their feelings and thoughts. They work the loopholes and aren't forthcoming with information that could work against them or could give another leverage. They're pros in the art of manipulation, but you knew that, didn't you? Tell me, you knew how sneaky and highhanded they could be." Quinn eyed Sookie, hoping she wasn't as naive as she was letting on.

In a very unladylike fashion, Sookie snorted. "Oh yeah, knew that right off...but I don't understand. Why be so sneaky and secretive? I mean, if you love somebody-"

"Oh God, you're a romantic." Quinn cut in with a groan. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, disapprovingly. "You do realize, these are vampires that we're talking about? Did you watch a lot of Disney while were growing up? Or was it the trashy romance novels that did you in? I bet you think vamps sparkle, too, don't cha?" Quinn teased with a smartass wink, just to rile her up.

Ooh! She wanted to dot that eye for him! Give him a permanent wink! That condescending piece of...crap! It was then that Sookie realized, she_ did_ grow up on Disney and she _has_ read every checkout line romance novel she could get her hands on, since she was thirteen years old. Just last week, she broke down and bought the Twilight Saga, just to see what all the hullabaloo was about.

The deer-in-headlights look on Sookie's face that morphed into narrowed eyes, told Quinn the light teasing was true. He doubled over laughing.

"Oh, this is rich!" Deep baritone laughs echoed off the porch and into the trees. Sookie found herself grumbling again. A moment or two later, Quinn sobered and resumed the condescending tone she absolutely loathed. "Stackhouse, you are one deluded ass chick. A supernatural pedigree means supernatural rules. You have to start thinking and acting like a supe or you're screwed."

Urghhh, she hates him! Why does he have to be so infuriating and still manage to make so much sense?

"You know what I'm asking. Could you please explain the bonding stuff," she deadpanned with an exhausted blink, refusing to give him anymore ammunition. He was getting on her nerves, not that anything could stop the Sookie-is-a-naive-idiot roll he's on...

"Three mutual exchanges of blood, solidifies the process. At that point, the non-vamp begins to smell like the vamp, but the vamp doesn't take on the scent of the non-vamp. Essentially, you'll smell but he won't- that hardly symbolizes a mutual and equal relationship if you ask me, but scent is only the beginning of a very long and unequal list. Vamps have all the advantages, whereas the non-vamp doesn't. The downside to giving a vamp the ability to monitor emotions, is that it also gives him the tools to play you like a cello. I'm not saying vamps are incapable of love, because they are capable, but the relationship is based on the vamp having and maintaining the upper hand over another."

Sookie mulled on his words for a while, absorbed every word to memory. She was gonna learn these things like her life depends on it. "I can feel both of their emotions, when they're close enough. Does that mean I'm bound to both?"

"Yes, but vampires don't like to share, not for very long anyway. The next step is turning you or a public pledge, but you can't be turned due to your heritage. It's unlawful to attempt it and I doubt it would take."

"So what's a public... pledge?"

"It's the equivalent of marriage vows in the vampire world, only it's a symbolic gesture. A ceremony isn't necessary, but the ritual has to be performed in front of several vampire witnesses, preferably those with political clout. All you have to do is hand a vampire an athame or any double edged knife and it's a done deal. If it's vamp on vamp, it's recognized as equal standing, but in your case, he'd own your ass, literally. You haven't done that? Have you?"

"No, I haven't." Her mind was spinning. Lafayette's words replayed in her head, along with Alcide's and Quinn's. She never bothered to learn, never bothered to really listen, and she had to wonder how far they would've gone with their need to outdo the other. She could have saved herself a whole lotta heartache and grief, if she simply asked questions and educated herself.

"I have to ask...do either vamps hold positions in vampire politics?"

"Both. Bill is King of Louisiana and Eric is Sheriff of this Area."

Quinn growled out as he began to pace and shake again. "And you had to bring me here? Thanks for signing my death warrant, you little- you can't possibly be that stupid! Is this how you're getting back at me, for laying you out the other night?"

"You're overreacting. I doubt either care anymore."

"Like I can believe anything you say. You don't even know your own ass from a hole in the ground!" Quinn went to his motorcycle and hopped back on, done with the night's portion of supernatural education for dummies. He needed to call in a favor to Lamar, the King of California, to make sure there wouldn't be a hit placed on his head.

"Wait!" Sookie needed to know. "How do I break the bond?" His motorcycle roared to life and he revved the motor to drown her out. "Please tell me! I don't want this! I broke up with both of them for a reason!"

Quinn's lips pressed together and he cut the motor. "Did you, now? What did you say exactly?"

"That it's over. I asked both to let me go and leave me alone. I walked out and they didn't stop me. They haven't come to me since."

Quinn grew still and he stared at Sookie's face. "You did good in asking to be let go- the proper way to end a relationship with a vampire. It's similar to how a Maker releases a childe, but the blood remains. You have to wait until it's out of your system."

"How long do I have to wait?"

"With humans, it depends on the consumption and time spent with those vampires- usually a couple of months for every year. Vamp on vamp bonds break pretty easily, it's just a matter of saying a few words... but other supe heritage makes it hard to determine. I've seen some go years before the bond dissolved."

"Years? No. No fucking way! I don't wanna be tied to vamps, especially those two. You have to know a quicker way."

"I do, but I don't know if it's safe for faerie hybrids and who says I want to involve myself in any more of your problems?"

"I'll owe you. A faerie that owes is worth something, right?"

"I see I've gotten through that thick skull of yours." Quinn chuckled. Maybe there was hope for her, after all. "Owing me is substantial."

"I don't care."

"Are you prepared to be called upon for whatever reason, absent the right to protest, up to and including the possibility of death?"

Well damn! The verbal contract encompassed everything and it made her nervous. Although Sookie didn't like the terms, what other alternative did she have?

"Yes."

"Swear it on the light." Quinn said, and everything inside of Sookie wanted to run away, but she had to be rid of vampires. Her life has gone to shit since she first met Bill and it's gotten worse and worse. She was tired of being a regular feed and fuck, tired of being manipulated and on the receiving end of highhandedness.

"I swear it."

"A verbal agreement won't cut it, Stackhouse. Make your finger glow and do the ET touch with me."

"Huh?"

"You really were raised human, weren't you?" Quinn shook his head. "Okay, think of promises and vows, of sacred pacts, allegiances, unity..."

Sookie concentrated on those words as she held up a single pointer finger and was completely blown away when the tip of her digit glowed. Quinn quickly touched it with a pointer finger of his own, before the light dimmed out.

"Congratulations. You now owe a weretiger. Never, ever, do this with a vampire. Got it?"

"The light thingy?"

"Yeah. Just trust me. I'll loan you everything I have on faeries and you'll understand. Now, let me make a few calls to the regional magister, make sure you're legal to sever ties completely, and I'll ask Ludwig if you'll survive a rapid break. And seriously, don't harass me about it. I'll let you know when I have something substantial. Later, Stackhouse."

The motorcycle roared back to life and he was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know!**


	17. Undelivered Messages

**A/N: I hope you guys are still around. Sorry for the long wait. A special thanks to keionisbeast for the PM that reminded me to finish what I started :) Expect the meeting between Alcide and Quinn within the next two chapters. Also, the next chapter will be posted in a couple of days. I've lollygagged long enough, so I'll shut up now. Enjoy!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Seventeen: Undelivered Messages  
><strong>

* * *

><p>There was a broad grin on Alcide's face, but the grin fell as soon as his eyes landed on Emma. Simultaneously, the couple saw the impression of teeth on Alcide's neck, slowly fading into smooth skin.<p>

Luna was grateful when the men exchanged information because she couldn't find her voice. Her emotions staggered between mortification for needing the pack's assistance, embarrassment for having to interrupt a pairing, and frantic worry for her child, but the look of helplessness on Sam's face is an image she won't be able to erase from memory. She was sure it mirrored her own.

But Alcide kept his head.

The men exchanged a look, a silent ten second communication where Alcide seemed to understand something. Alcide barked out orders for Sam to retrieve clothes for Emma and whatever the couple would need for an overnight stay. Sam didn't argue like he normally would. He has a deep aversion to being ordered around as most shifters are solitary alphas in their own right, but Sam merely nodded and left.

Only after Sam left, did Luna understand the silent exchange- for the moment, Sam handed his family's safety into Alcide's care and trusted him to do what Sam couldn't.

Alcide promptly shifted in the yard to take Emma for a run. Emma's tiny salt and pepper colored wolf eagerly followed the large white wolf. She disappeared in the tree line yipping happily.

Part of Luna died in that instant, at the knowledge her child would obey the whims of a practical stranger, all for the sake of belonging. Stupid pack imperatives. It made her sick.

A half hour later, a very naked Alcide broke out of the tree line, carrying a passed out but switched Emma in his arms.

Her baby looked as pale as a vampire. Droplets covered her skin and her hair was soaked, like Alcide ran the child to exhaustion. Luna reached for Emma like any mother would and nearly cried when Alcide refused to hand her over.

"I'll take her up," he said with a tone that demanded no argument. "You start the bath." Luna growled lowly at the command and he snarled. "You're too exhausted to safely traverse the stairs with Emma and my wolf can't take anymore accidents. Now stop your shit and get the bath ready."

Emma's muscles were visibly rolling under her skin like slithering snakes under a peach rug, a sign her little body was struggling to stay switched. Alcide bounded up the stairs, unwilling to wait for Luna.

Within a quarter hour, Sam returned with a duffel filled to the brim with overnight essentials. He brought Emma's stuffed bunny, the only toy Luna managed to salvage and she almost cried again. Briefly, she pondered her manic emotional climate, but immediately blamed it on zero sleep in the last twenty seven hours.

"Alright guys, there's epsom salt in the bath. Let her soak for a few more minutes, do a thorough rinse, then take her to bed. If she shifts again, just knock and I'll take her for another run."

Alcide was acutely aware of Jannalyn's soft breaths and was grateful she remained asleep, oblivious to the night's emergency. His masculine pride soared at the mental image of her post-coital form, exhausted and sprawled across his bed. He planned to eat her out again in the morning, just to see it again. Hopefully, she'd help him stroke another one out, as a reward.

"So that's what you did? You ran her?" Sam asked, when he found his friend still staring at a closed door. Minutes had gone by. Emma was already rinsed and wrapped in a towel. Her head rested on Sam's shoulder as he carried her. "Umm, Alcide? You ran her?"

Alcide turned his head and noticed they were done. "Yeah, just a short distance."

"Hell, I could've taken her then, instead of -uh- interrupting." The teeth marks on Alcide's neck were gone and Sam felt like shit for interrupting such an intimate act of coupling among wolves.

Alcide shook his head at Sam. "Nah, you did right, comin' here. At Emma's age, she has to follow a dominant wolf. If you'd taken her out, the potential for problems becomes exponential. She would stray from your lead... into traffic, into anothers' territory, hell, she could've exposed us to humans. You two can't keep Emma from this life. If you try, she could follow a natural pack to settle imperatives and there's no coming back from going completely animal. She'd never be the same, that is, if you ever found her afterwards."

Alcide paused to stare at Luna to see if she understood the gravity of this error. Her shoulders tensed but he had to drive it home.

"Have you seen pictures of the Capitoline Wolf? You know, the bronze sculpture of a mother wolf with two suckling human babies? The story of Romulus and Remus isn't all myth." Alcide saw a shiver go down Luna's spine.

"So what now?" Sam asked, gladly removing the attention from his mate's mistake.

"Keep Emma in the bed with you. The communal warmth will help with the sore muscles she's sure to have. Pick a room and get some rest. I'm headed for the shower. I'll see y'all in the morning."

* * *

><p>The water temperature slowly plummeted as Sookie took a nice long soak in the tub. Bourbon was her nurse tonight, but Nurse Jack Daniels did very little to numb the soreness in her body.<p>

_Pfft, maybe because it's named after a man?_ It seemed perfectly plausible. Alcoholic beverages are supposed to be ambiguous, so why were most named after men? Her inner raging feminist hated this fact, because it isn't fair. She shut down the thought because no one likes a bitter, man-hating drunk.

..

..

What was she doing again? Oh yeah. Checking out day-old weretiger inflicted damage and working out the kinks from an incredibly long shift.

A ginger inspection revealed the scabs softened, making the grisly carnage of abraded skin on her rump and thighs sting with every movement. Immediately, she decided it was nothing that couldn't be cured with another drink.

What was she thinking when she didn't call off for an eight hour shift? Oh, that's right. She's been a shitty employee ever since her life took a supernatural turn, and she's lucky to have a job, let alone, decent shifts.

Sam's been a damn good friend... who happened to miss a piece of gravel. Pfft. Isn't his eyesight supposed to be superior?

The soak brought a sliver of rock to the surface, but was still snugly lodged in her elbow. Further inspection revealed two more pieces in the back of her left thigh. Dang it! She'll have to bend into a pretzel to see, therefore, stretch the softened scabs and possibly cause them to reopen. She shrugged at the possibility of pain. Again, nothing another sip won't cure.

With a loose towel in place, she slowly limped to the sink, a limp that seemed to grow less pronounced as she drank away. She lazily gathered supplies from the medicine cabinet while mindlessly humming along to the soft tunes on the radio.

Sookie placed the towel in the floor, laid down, and pulled her leg into a lascivious position. Knee to chest, propped on a single elbow, neck strained to see, with her ass and cooter exposed to absolutely no one.

Why was she giggling so hard? She had no idea. There wasn't a darn thing funny about picking gravel out her behind. But the position is hilarious.

With a little help from trusted tweezers, the gunk coated pieces were finally removed with little fuss. She noted the discharge. The pits oozed red when she squeezed and the edges were a fresh pink. A good sign. She frowned at the deep hues of purplish-black bruises, but focused on the other scabbed over pits. All looked relatively absent of infection.

Sookie wasn't looking forward to the next step. _Okay, I can do this. I can do this_- she mentally chanted. She twisted off the cap from a bottle of medical grade alcohol. It bobbed and weaved as it hovered over her cocked leg.

_Easy peasy. Pour it. Get it done. On the count of three._

_One. _

_Two._

"Holy motherfrickin' labradoodle!" she half yelled, half hissed. It was liquid fire. It burned and stung like a...labradoodle? She giggled at the inability to properly curse in Gran's house- a lesson that stayed with Sookie after her and Tara had their mouths washed out with soap, one too many times.

The pit on her elbow was near painless, only eliciting a hiss as she poured alcohol over it. It was a bleeder though, so she covered it with gauze and placed an over-sized bandage over top of it to spare her sheets from becoming stained.

The house was chillier than normal, so after dressing in pajamas, she slipped into a thick pink terry cloth robe and descended down the stairs. Sookie visited the mini-bar again, an antique Victorian era piece- an addition to the dining room thanks to Eric. She poured another quadruple-or-so shot of bourbon and took in the house again, aimlessly looking around with a somewhat tipsy, but analytical eye.

Signs of Eric were everywhere.

Every change in the house- the new floors, paint, furniture, and all the amenities was Eric's doing. Alcide's construction company did most of the renovations, but Eric paid for everything, furnishings and all. If Gran could afford to renovate and redecorate while she was alive, she imagined the house would look exactly as it did now, minus the light tight vampire chamber in the basement.

Fixing up the place was highhanded, but a sweet gesture. Sweet? _No, Sook. A manipulation-_ she reminded herself, for a perfect stranger identified what she knew to be true. She would have believed Eric and Bill loved her in their own strange ways, but now she knew the truth.

Vampires are the bot flies of the supernatural world.

Bill and Eric sunk in with teeth, wormed their way under her skin and deep into her flesh, and now it's hell to get 'em out. She's miserable, while they're fat from feeding, ugly, and no longer giving a damn. Part of her is gone, digested and in a state of disrepair, and she still _felt_ them. In her blood, in her body, in her heart, when they no longer deserved any part of her.

Ending the relationships was probably the smartest move she's made since Gran died. She would never be treated as an equal, evidenced by the way Eric and Bill treated her like tangible property to be fought over. They made decisions for her, around her, despite her. Highhanded indeed. It isn't easy to admit she was just a game- entertainment to distract a couple of vampires from the monotony of their long lives.

She's an idiot to love either of them, to still sorta love 'em... and why did she again? Another slow burn crept down her throat as she thought about the irrational feelings that lingered.

Ugh, and their endless 'mine!' battles. It's like arbitrating a toy dispute between toddlers and it reminded her so much of the squabbling seagulls on Finding Nemo. It was easy to imagine cartoon versions of those punk ass fangers.

Seagull Bill donning a Russell Edgington styled wig (because let's face it, Bill's hair is exactly the same).

Seagull Eric wearing a Hanna Montana wig and flipping it back like a primadonna. That vain fucker. Lafayette recently told Sookie why it was cut back then; how Eric ruined his hair by getting blood on it when Lala was held prisoner in Fangtasia's basement.

Both vamps with fangs protruding from yellow beaks stupidly squawking a series of- "Mine! Mine! Mine!"

And she found that shit attractive? She shivered at the thought and decided maybe she's had enough of Nurse Jack Daniels.

Nah. Stackhouses don't tolerate alcohol abuse. _You pour it, you drink it-_ a notable Jason Stackhouse declaration and who_ is she_ to disobey her big brother? With a shrug, she decided to pace the remainder in the glass and vowed to refrain from refilling it.

Sookie sighed as her mind spun back to those punk ass fangers. She couldn't fault the two for their childish behavior if her love was the prize, but there was no fooling herself now. The prize has always been Sookie's ultra sunblock blood and telepathic abilities. She's a commodity, one both vamps seemed hell bent on _procuring_, pure and simple.

_Ask and ye shall receive_, the weretiger said. Sookie couldn't read their minds, so she always had a lot of questions, but she seemed to always become distracted...

_The downside to giving a vamp the ability to monitor emotions, is that it also gives him the tools to play you like a cello._

Fucking hell. Quinn is long gone but she still heard a clear echo of his voice in her head. "Stupid infuriating purple eyed man-tiger," she grumbled. He did have some pretty eyeballs...

But wait.

If Bill and Eric monitored her emotions, wouldn't they detect a spike of curiosity? She thought back to the times she wanted to ask questions, nothing specific, just general stuff, and she realized both vamps had a habit of distracting her.

With kisses.

With lovemaking.

Or some urgent vampire business called them away.

"Motherfucker" she hissed. They purposely distracted her, all along. They knew what they were doing and she fell for it- hook, line, and sinker- every damn time! Quinn wasn't kidding when he said vampires had all the advantages.

Sookie is positive both vamps moved on, feeding and fucking whatever caught their fancy, but she couldn't...not while she felt their presence lingering in her body. It's downright creepy have a vamp eavesdropping on a gal's emotions.

Why was she never opposed to such intrusions? Oh, that's right. She was blinded by love. Pfft!

Another big gulp of warmth washed down her throat, as she fumed over the state of her life. One thing was certain though, she would do what was necessary to be free.

* * *

><p>A frazzled and disheveled Mattias, paced the lobby of the Crimson Hotel. Vampires don't pace, not unless they're severely agitated, so Quinn knew something was up as he approached the double doors. Mattias greeted him upon entry and stood as stiff as a board.<p>

"I must apologize. It seems some guests have seen you and word has spread. Several invitations and requests have arrived." Mattias snapped his fingers twice and the disgruntled stringy vamp from the other night moved around the front desk with a small bundle of mail.

Quinn sighed. "Happens everywhere but California. Have it delivered to my room."

Mattias nodded a dismissal to the other vamp and his voice lowered significantly. "Speaking of California..." Mattias hedged. "A few couriers arrived and insisted on direct delivery, but I had no way to contact you."

No wonder Mattias seemed off. There were crinkles around the lapels of his shirt and a few missing buttons, indication the vamp experienced a bit of manhandling at some point. It was probably the first time The Crimson received official mail from a Kingdom, a scary experience if you don't know what to expect. "How many?"

"Couriers for California and New York, also a Sheriff of Texas await your return in the small lobby on your floor. Two guards accompany each."

"Thank you for the forewarning, Mattias." The vampire tilted his head in an unspoken 'you're welcome'. "Any word from the Magister?"

"Magister?" The vamp froze as most do, but he recovered quickly. "No. No word from the Magister, not yet."

"I expect his arrival in two to three nights. Reserve a sound proof room for a possible stay."

"Will there be a Tribunal in the area?" Mattias seemed frightened and perversely excited at the same time.

"Doubtful. He mentioned nothing of trials."

"Excuse the impertinence, but I have yet to meet his acquaintance. May I have a hint to the Magister's tastes and requirements?"

"In an official capacity, he values privacy and security, over grandeur. Talk with your staff. All should give a wide girth and wait for requests to be made. Avoid disrupting or overhearing official business."

"Understood. Do you require anything before I go?"

"No, Mattias. Have a good evening."

"I bid you the same." Mattias gave a tilted nod and quickly set off to warn his staff.

Quinn strolled to the elevators with a scowl because the King of California sent a courier. Surely, Lamar knows Quinn's cell number- he could have called to deny the request._ Kings- too damn theatrical..._ Several hisses were heard as he trekked towards the lobby on his floor. Mattias's report was accurate, nine vamps were waiting. "I'll take California first, Texas last. Give me two minutes."

Quinn began a mental count as he entered his suite. He stowed the saddlebag and sat at a desk. At precisely one hundred twenty seconds, a single vampire flashed to his side, as the guards waited by the closed door.

"From his Highness, King Lamar Brown of California." The courier vamp produced a laptop and blurred around him to set it up. "His Highness wishes to speak to you, via webcam. Sir, you're on."

"Your Highness." Quinn said, when the video feed linked up and Lamar appeared on the screen.

"Ahh, Sir Quinn. I nearly sent out a search party."

"You could have dialed me directly-"

"As if you keep your ringer on... I wanted a face-to-face, but Louisiana is far too indisposed to return my call. The circumstances required this form of communication."

"Your decision?" Quinn asked, as he noted Louisiana's indisposed status.

"You are an asset to California and a valued confidant. I'd like to think you would always know the answer, but since you require an oath, I shall comply to ease your worries." Lamar sighed and in five rapid plucks, his blue dress shirt was unbuttoned on camera and the fabric pulled away to reveal a bare sepia chest. "John Quinn, I solemnly swear on the Kingdom of California, if you meet an untimely death or otherwise become the victim of an unexplainable disappearance or circumstance, the Quinn bloodline will forever be under my protection for the remainder of my existence. I swear to you with sacred blood." Lamar touched a finger to a fang and drew a 'x' where his heart use to beat.

"Thank you, your Highness. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it." Relief caused Quinn to sag and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Of course, you could try." The ornery King grinned wide. Just as quickly, the grin disappeared. "Now, explain to me, what could you possibly want in that...that wretched swamp?"

"Are you asking as King or as my friend?"

"The official portion of our conversation is concluded." Lamar made a shooing gesture to someone off camera. "The stenographer is gone... Tell me, does this road trip involve the lovely Miss Bannister?"

"How-?" Quinn growled at the webcam. "You have spies following me?" he accused.

"Please." Lamar huffed. "I know you. Time away from earning profit usually involves the three women in your life and only one is unaccounted...and stop your growling. What kind of friend would I be, if I didn't ask of your personal endeavors?" he admonished.

"I'm in the correct city and Jan knows I'm here. Unfortunately, I'm waiting."

"I'm sure it will be a pleasant reunion." Lamar let out a exasperated sigh. "I'm a little annoyed she hasn't returned. I don't understand what she expects to find in the wilderness among heathens. There are rumors of... maltreatment?"

"I've heard the same," Quinn gave a somber smile into the camera, "but she lives."

"Breathing is not the same as living." The words held a layered meaning and rang true. Their last conversation was introspective; a meaning-of-life discussion, full of soul-searching contemplations of purpose and hopes for redemption. Lamar should have known it was Miss Bannister's way of saying goodbye, without actually saying it.

Oh, how he missed her sharp mind. Miss Bannister is highly observant and is able to follow several thoughts at once, unlike most of her kind. She asks questions to dissect most situations, which usually paved the way for a logical course of action in the midst of danger or chaos. She rarely gave opinions or involved herself in vampire politics, but when asked, the King could count on uncensored almost brutal honesty, a refreshing change from centuries of appeasements from 'yes men'.

John Quinn is her male equivalent in many aspects and the King often wondered why his friends never became more.

"You still have a thing for her, don't you?" Quinn asked. He has seen Lamar with donors, whores, women from all sorts of backgrounds and pedigrees, but mention a certain she-wolf and the King's iron-clad impervious facade is replaced with a squirming vamp.

Lamar straightened his posture and shifted uncomfortably under Quinn's scrutiny. Finally, Lamar spoke, but it was a secretive whisper with a heavy dose of stink eye. "I miss her company and calming presence. Don't you?"

"Of course, Lamar. Everyday. We lived together, had a routine, synchronicity, but you...She's a she-wolf, Lamar." Quinn deadpanned in annoyance. He hates how Jan manages to attract attention from Old Ones.

Lamar narrowed his eyes. "I know" he hissed, "and now I'm annoyed." He murmured something about the hopelessly blind and the terminally ridiculous, but the rest was too fast for Quinn to catch. A cocky grin slid into place on Lamar's sepia complexion, while resting back into his seat. "Actually, I'm relieved you don't see her the way I do. So tell me, when can I expect your return?"

"A few more weeks, perhaps a month. I can't wait to-" In a rare spectacle, Lamar frowned on camera. He pinched the bridge of his nose as frustration seeped into his features. "Lamar?" Quinn growled out impatiently. "What is it?"

Lamar seemed a little miffed at his tone. "Nothing to worry over."

"Is it Frannie? What has she gotten into now?" Francine Quinn has a baffling knack for evasion and disappearing acts. This year alone, the fifteen year old has eluded tutors, nannies, and vampire security personnel three times, vanishing for hours on end. How she did it- Quinn had no idea, but he hoped the behavior was a phase that would pass within the year. Surviving angsty teenaged weretiger rebellion has been, by far, the most taxing and confusing experience yet. If Quinn weren't already bald, his hair would have fallen out by now.

"The little tigress has done nothing...nothing yet. She is safe, as is your mother. Like I said, my anxiety is nothing to fret over."

"Anxiety? You're worrying me, Lamar. What the fuck is going on?"

"Ugh, must I spell it out? You aren't the only one awaiting Miss Bannister's return." Another heavy sigh escaped. "I have another engagement in ten minutes. Will you send my regards?"

"I will, but she won't like your new name." Quinn smirked. The night isn't right until he can dish out a little more ribbing.

"Why not?"

"I tell you what, you'll be the first phone call she makes. Deal?"

"Deal. Keep in touch and I bid you a good evening, Sir Quinn."

"I will and I bid you the same, your Highness." At those words, the courier made the disconnection. "Tell New York to give me a minute." Quinn said, as the courier packed up the laptop and left the suite.

Sixty seconds passed and here was a tap at the door. New York is next.

"You may enter." Again, the vamp appeared next to the desk with an invitation written in perfect calligraphy.

Sir John Quinn of California and guest,

Your esteemed presence is hereby requested

to attend as honored guests at the decennial

North American Royal Summit,

to be held at sunset, July 18th,

Lyndhurst Mansion

635 S. Broadway, Tarrytown, NY 10591

"And your answer, Sir?" the bored courier asked.

"One moment." Quinn reached for the cellphone in his saddlebag and speed dialed a number. "Christine, check the planner for July 18th."

After a few seconds, a nasally voice responded. "You have Frannie's pick up from camp with a strict noon dismissal, a dental appointment for Frannie at two, and a consultation with Dr. Singe in the evening."

"Thanks, Christine." He hit the end button and turned to address the courier. "Send my apologies. I must decline." The vampire nodded and promptly left the room.

Texas was next, the courier Quinn dreaded the most. He did very little direct business in Texas and often sent another Master of Ceremonies in his place when business couldn't be avoided. It was a long standing promise to Jan. She believed Godric was a threat to Quinn's life, so as a precaution, Jan made the weretiger vow to avoid Texas in it's entirety. It was an easy promise to make and easier to keep, because Quinn hates pain and likes living.

Immediately, Quinn knew something was wrong. The female vampire entered the room slowly, instead of zipping to the desk like the previous couriers. From four feet away, she spoke.

"I understand you may know the whereabouts of Jannalyn Bannister."

Quinn sprung from his seat and had her by the neck, lifting her from the floor without any effort. "You have exactly one minute to explain yourself."

The two guards waiting outside flashed into the room in her defense, but she spoke quickly.

"Get out. Leave us, now!" The guards looked her over, nodded, and zipped away, slamming the door behind them. "I had no other choice. I must find her." Her voice cracked under his grasp, but he noticed she carried a slight accent. French? No. Spanish? Not quite.

"Who are you and what do you want with Jan?" he demanded.

"I'm Isabel Beaumont, Sheriff of Dallas, and former nest mate."

He recognized the lady vamp's supposed name, but the last he heard, Godric is the Sheriff of Dallas. "Lies! Speak the truth or I will end you."

"I have news," she croak out as Quinn's hand tightened around her throat, "bad news." A line of blood pooled in the waterline of her eyes. He recalled one of the very few things Jan told him about Isabel Beaumont; she was described as a sentimental vampire, easily moved to tears.

"Why should I trust anything you have to say?" He growled out while shaking the dangling vampire.

"I would never betray Jan. Surely, she has mentioned me. I am Isa." Her hands feebly pulled at his wrist as she warred with self-preservation instincts, but she knew better than to harm the well-protected weretiger. "You fool! Put me down or you'll incur her wrath!"

Unceremoniously, Quinn dropped the lady vamp on her ass because she had a point. Although he couldn't be sure Jan still gave a fuck about any former nest mates, he had no intention of testing that theory. Apparently, the lady vamp was pissy now, talkin' a whole lotta ineffective shit as she righted herself.

"I am lady of high birth, a Sheriff of vampires, and Jan's very best girlfriend, you animal! Continue this foolishness and you better pray for your nutsack, for she will make you a eunuch!"

"Since you were oh-soo-close, tell me, what did her slavers name her?" It was a trick question and depending on lady vamp's answer, Quinn would know if this woman really was the same_ Isa_ Jan mentioned once or twice. If she proves to be an imposter, he had plenty of room to shift and rip her to pieces.

Isabel huffed as she straightened her clothing. "Her slavers had no part in _any_ of her names. Her father, Esben Dahl named her Janauri, the month of her birth in Swedish. Ripper was penned by the spectators. Jannalyn was a mistake. After her vocal chords were repaired, a pretentious nurse with inferior hearing wrote it down. Bannister is really bastard, what Jannalyn called the nurse after the blunder." Isabel massaged her neck and took a deep, unneeded breath. "I also have intimate knowledge of her history in the Pits. I know her favorite color, favorite pastime, favorite book...should I prepare for an interrogation?"

Several parts of Isabel's statement upset Quinn. It was a solid year before Jan told Quinn her true name, Januari Dahl, but she withheld the names of her parents. From then on, Quinn refused to address her as Jannalyn and settled on Jan at her insistence. She explained the pseudonym was born accidentally, but it served a purpose- redirection. Although he hated the false name, wisely, he left it alone.

Also, Jan's history in the Pits wasn't a topic she discussed with Quinn. Jan rarely spoke of the past unless it was a pleasant memory and most of the time, sharing pleasant memories was like pulling teeth. He supposed, it only made sense Jan would confide in a woman.

"Not necessary. What is her favorite color, anyway?"

"Still testing me, I see. Fine. Jan wears reds, but green is her favorite. Forrest green, emerald green, all shades really. Unfortunately, the color also enhances the color of her scars. Red diminishes emphasis where she least desires."

Quinn gestured for Isabel to sit at the couch at the other end of the room. With superb grace, she sat with perfect posture, displaying an almost regal poise that seemed second nature.

"I know how to find Jan, but a surprise wouldn't be ideal. What's happened, Sheriff Beaumont? What is this news?"

"You may have seen it on national news a while back. The Fellowship of the Sun attacked my nest during festivities, used a human with a bomb strapped to his chest. My nest mates- Stan, Catherine, and Paolo- perished from silver and oak shrapnel, as they and their companions were closest to the blast. Our household wasn't fully recovered from Jan's abandonment and the attack... it was another devastating blow. Godric, in his depression, met the sun shortly after."

Quinn snarled. Didn't Godric consider what his suicide would do to Jan? Or did he expect her to join him in her own grief? The selfish bastard. Quinn has no choice now, but to seek her out. Pretty boy Packmaster be damned. Jan deserves to know, but Isabel said it happened a while back. "How long ago did it happen?"

"Our home was attacked on August 14th. Godric met the sun August 16th. Almost four years ago."

Shit. Jan left Godric six years ago, so in two years time he committed suicide. Jan wouldn't take this news well and suddenly, Ludwig's warning of an upcoming mental break made sense. How much did Ludwig know and how much is old Goblin hiding?

Quinn stared at Jan's former nest mate and tried to formulate the best way to handle everything. He gave an apologetic frown at her losses, causing the floodgates of Isabel's tear ducts to open. Blood tears poured down her face, in front of a stranger no less, something Quinn hasn't seen in all of his interactions with vamps. Vamps usually display impeccable control of their emotions.

"I was left alone" she sobbed, "the aftermath while settling into Sheriffhood. I searched the state and inquired elsewhere, but my superiors and many others refused any involvement. My efforts in locating Jan yielded nothing." The Sheriff flashed across the room to collapse to her knees before him. "Please, I beg you. The task of delivering glass urns falls to me. It is our way and has been too long."

"I know." He said simply. Vamps take Blood Rites very seriously. They believe the souls of the truly dead cannot rest until the remains are delivered to rightful parties. Most urns are delivered within a few nights, but the urns in Isabel's possession are almost four years overdue.

It was wrong to leave a grieving lady vamp on the floor, so with a sigh, he did what any gentleman would do. He lifted her from the floor and helped her into a chair. He retrieved a warm wet washcloth and offered it to Isabel, so she could clean her face.

"Gratitudes weretiger." She dabbed at her eyes, but the mess was everywhere else. "Will she hate me, because I could not find her sooner?"

"I don't think so and it's not your fault you couldn't find her. Jan has lived a nomadic lifestyle, as a transient, well below her means and off the radar. She's hard to track when she doesn't want to be found."

Isabel nodded with sniffle, somewhat relieved. "So what shall you have me do, until she is found?"

Quinn retrieved his cellphone and handed it to Isabel. "Get a room here. Program your number and I'll be in touch."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Let me know your thoughts. ~L**


	18. Tantrums

**A/N: Thanks everyone for the positive reviews and story alerts. It makes me happy every time.**

* * *

><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Eighteen: Tantrums  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Everything felt<em> wrong<em>.

It wasn't quite morning yet and the noises outside were entirely too loud. The pitter-patter of rain against the roof and the creaking of branches on the verge of snapping in the wind had her shaking. It sounded like the mother of all storms descended upon them.

Lying between Luna and Sam also felt wrong. They smelled wrong, too. She felt cold between her parents, too cold. Like any woodland creature, she wanted a warm quiet hidey-hole to hunker down into, so like a natural wolf pup, she followed instincts and went searching for one.

Roaming the dark hall in the middle of the night in a big strange house felt ominous. The hall was long, there were too many spooky cracked open doors, and the wind made tree branches scratch at the windows.

Emma wouldn't be scared if Theodore Laveau knew how to keep his big fat Cajun mouth shut. He liked to tell stories at recess, scary stories his grampa told him about _feufollet_ and other_ lou-lou_ creatures of the swamp.

She thought he was trying to scare her, like how boys liked to scare girls with worms and boogers, so she told Theo to stop telling her nonsense or they wouldn't be friends anymore. Theo insisted the stories are true and the two had a 'nuh-uh, yes-huh' argument. Emma ended up calling his grampa an old fart and a liar, but Theo didn't get mad at Emma.

Instead, his green eyes got really big and he covered her mouth.

He said it's bad luck to call his _Papere_ a liar and tried to make Emma wear his necklace, the one with a _gris-gris_ bag attached to it. Theo has worn the thing since kindergarten and he didn't let anyone touch it, like it's super important, and Emma didn't want to lose it on accident. She had a feeling Theo wouldn't want to be bestest friends anymore if she did.

Sam says all boys have cooties and bayou boys have a deep streak of idiot, but for a cootie infected bayou boy, Theo is really smart and really nice. He helps her in class, he doesn't tease her about her ears like the other kids do, and he picks her up when she trips over her big feet. He laughs but he isn't mean and that's why he's her bestest friend. So Emma apologized for calling his grampa a liar.

With a shrug, Theo went back to storytelling as he pushed her on the swing and told her all about _loup-garou_, the werewolves that snatch children at night.

Emma didn't believe any of the stories at first, but Theo was right. Her daddy is a werewolf and he tried to snatch her away one night...since Emma is a werewolf like her daddy, does that mean she'll grow up to snatch children from mommies, too?

The boss man is a werewolf and he doesn't snatch children. Him and Sam stopped her daddy. Maybe only bad werewolves steal children from mommies? And if Theo's grampa was right about werewolves, why wouldn't the other scary bad guys and boogeymen of the night exist too?

The hallway looked scarier now and part of Emma wished she took Theo's _gris-gris_ necklace. She closed her eyes real tight and wished he was there to hold her hand.

Sleepy, tired, and scared out of her mind, she stopped in front of the door that smelled like the boss man. Before she fell asleep, the boss man said he'd take care of her. Did this count? What if he got mad?

She's cold. So cold. And super scared.

Emma chewed her nails, as she stood at the foot of bed to stare at the sleeping boss man and his lady. The lady looked like she crawled out of a briar patch a few times and maybe a few rose bushes. Sam said that's what wily rabbits do, they hide under thorns and risk a few scratches to keep bad guys from hurting them. The lady obviously got away from scary bad guys, probably a few boogeymen too...did it mean the lady is wily like a rabbit?

Emma frowned. They don't smell like her Mommy and Sam, but they smell...better? Maybe her folks skipped showers or something.

The lady moved a little closer to the boss man when the wind picked up. The boss man didn't seem to mind. Maybe she was scared, too.

Emma climbed into their bed and both adults shifted slightly to form their bodies around hers. Neither woke up, but boss man grunted a bit. She sunk into their warmth with a sigh. She just hoped scary thunder didn't start rolling in, then she'd wet the bed and everyone would be mad.

* * *

><p>Jannalyn stretched and discovered a dark haired little girl that somehow managed to force her small body into the crevasse between her and Alcide. Her head dipped to the child's forehead and she sniffed. The little girl smelled distinctly of wolf.<p>

Jannalyn gently moved the sweaty hair plastered to the girl's face and tested her temperature, but curiosity had to wait. Too much skin was exposed while in thin cotton sleep attire and the last thing she needs is a little girl opening her eyes and screaming her head off. She tried to lift the girl's small limbs wrapped around her body, but her movements woke Alcide.

"What are you doin'?" Alcide mumbled in complaint, his voice still gravelly with sleep.

"I'm leaving," Jannalyn whispered back.

Alcide's body went rigid in the bed and his eyes popped open. "Wha- why?"

"Shh. I know these," Jannalyn motioned towards her neck, "don't bother you, but little ones... I have too many." Jannalyn paused to listen to the sounds inside the house but couldn't hear anything beyond the quarter sized raindrops hitting the roof and windows. "Where are her parents?"

"Down the hall," he whispered. "They took her to bed after I got her to switch. Must've come in on her own in the middle of the night, which means, kiddo has already seen you."

"Natalie and Tracy mentioned nothing of little ones."

"This is Emma, Luna's and Sam's kid." Alcide took in the sight of Emma's arms wrapped around Jannalyn's torso, her little face scrunched up and mashed to Jannalyn's breasts. "She looks pretty damn comfortable to me. I'm kinda jealous."

Detecting a mild current of jealousy, the white wolf growled in displeasure at the man for being a selfish son of a bitch. His mate's breasts serve a utilitarian purpose; a source of nourishment, as well as perfect comforting miniature pillows for pups. All pack pups.

_Whatever. Those C- cups are mine and shut up about sharin' 'em_- Alcide petulantly thought at the wolf.

The wolf snorted and shook his head at the man, for being a dumbass in denial. The wolf hurled a startling image at Alcide, one from wolfy lalaland. In Emma's place lie a set of twins. Plump diapered infants with wispy crowns of dark hair with his exact tone of olive skin; tea cup versions of Alcide with Jannalyn's big grey eyes.

Jannalyn's brows shot up to her hairline at how Alcide was staring down at Emma. A softened and covetous 'I want one' look she often sees on the faces of women. "That doesn't make any sense," she muttered, fitting words to several lines of thought.

Her voice broke through the crazy thoughts of fathering hypothetical babies. "What doesn't?"

"One-shifter parents should produce a shifter child, not a wolf; two- Emma can't be comfortable between two saunas; three- your jealousy is unwarranted; and lastly, that expression."

Alcide needed coffee, but he managed to get the gears spinning. "Alright. Lemme tackle that in order. One- Luna was the wife of a wolf, before Sam; two- baby girl here, is sweating out her aches; three- I'm a man, my jealousy will never make sense to you; and lastly, what expression?"

"Do you want children?"

Alcide nearly choked on air. "What?" He never wanted children. Correction- he never wanted children with Debbie. Her flighty ways, addiction to V, and penchant for cheating would've relegated a hypothetical child to a sorry ass childhood. Throw the 'were' gene in and Alcide had a psychopath in the making, so he didn't wish for children like most wolves. He just wasn't in a position to justify bringing a child into the world.

"With the way you looked at Emma, I thought...hmm. Maybe it's too early for that question."

It was_ too damn early_ for that question alright, too early in their relationship, too early in the morning, too early period. "I dunno...I mean...maybe? It all depends..." He grimaced at lacking a filter. "Umm, shit." _Shut the hell up, mouth! You blubbering idiot!_

Jannalyn noted Alcide's vocal stammering and discomfort on the topic of children, so she left it alone to look down at Emma. The Beast seemed solely fixated on the pup, yet completely absent of any ill intentions.

"Why would... Emma come in here? Surely, her parents are an excellent heat source."

Alcide sighed, grateful for the change of subject. "We run a little hotter than shifters, like I said, she needs to sweat out her aches. And before you gesture at more scars, if Emma was afraid she would've went back to her parents."

"I suppose, but I expected more caution from you, especially after last night."

"You're too hard on yourself," Alcide replied. "She didn't hurt me and I doubt she'd wanna hurt a helpless pup."

"How can you be so sure? You barely know me." It came out as a whisper yell, causing Emma to stir and nuzzle against her chest. Instantly, Jannalyn froze. Her eyes widened and she gulped. She eyed Emma again, hoping and praying Emma didn't wake before she could escape to the lower level.

_God, she's scared to death_ -Alcide thought. Like any scared animal, she lashed out a little but Alcide knew better than to take it personal. "You said she's a manifestation of survival instinct, right? Neither one of us are threats to your survival."

Jannalyn agreed with an absentminded nod. "But I'm too close."

"She didn't mind when she decided to use you as a body pillow." He tried to reason with Jannalyn, but the fear on her face told him it wasn't working. "Try to relax and get some more sleep. When it rains, I don't have to work." Alcide settled back onto the pillow behind his head, hoping she would follow his lead. Unfortunately, Jannalyn was undeterred.

"Abby and Cody will arrive soon to check in, so I'll start on breakfast." Jannalyn's face was the perfect picture of urgent concentration, like a bomb technician carefully snipping at live wires, as she slowly manipulated clingy limbs of a sleeping pup. She gained a few more inches of distance and slowly replaced her body with a pillow.

Alcide glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was a little after six a.m. He doubted his pregnant sister and a teenage he-wolf would be up at the ass crack of dawn for a check in, but arguing the point was a futile. As she stood completely free from the clutches of a harmless little girl, tension left her body and Alcide knew she wouldn't return to bed for the rest of the day.

_I'm hungry anyway_- Alcide thought with a sigh. "Okay, I'll see you downstairs in a few."

"I'm taking a shower first." Underclothes, skinny jeans, and an olive green long sleeved shirt were piled in her arms, as she walked around the bed to Alcide's side. She leaned over and nuzzled him, her scarred face swiping against his beard. "And good morning, by the way."

"No good morning kiss?" Alcide teased with a smirk.

"Not until I brush," her nose crinkled slightly, "and you too for that matter. Please...don't greet anyone else with _me_ on your breath." Her cheeks turned pink and corner of her mouth quirked up, mildly embarrassed at the things she hollered last night.

* * *

><p>Luna woke to the same gloomy morning just a few doors down the hall. She stared at a sleeping Sam, noting the dark circles under his eyes. A pang of guilt clawed through her system. Sam hadn't slept well since their argument and truth be told, she hadn't had much sleep either, especially while enduring Emma's shifting issues.<p>

_I'm sorry, Sam._ She couldn't remember how she talked herself into keeping him out of the loop.

Luna heard the muffled sound of clanging the pots and pans downstairs, and when she didn't see Emma in the room, she imagined Emma probably woke the lady of the house to demand breakfast. Her baby had to be starving, now that she had the appetite of a wolf. Shaking her head, she threw her robe on and quietly left the room to help, only to meet Alcide's fresh face exiting the bathroom.

"Luna," Alcide greeted. The man looked just as tired as Sam. "Emma's in our bed. She came in sometime last night."

"Oh." And so it begins, the slow pull into the pack. "Okay, should I move her?"

"No, it's fine. Let her sleep. She needs it."

"But what about you? Don't you want more sleep?"

Alcide shook his head. "Nah. I'm up 'round this time anyways when I have to work. Look Luna, we need to come to an agreement on Emma."

"What do you have in mind?" Sure, she'd hear him out, but if he started spewing the same bullshit Marcus tried to sell her, he had another thing coming. Her fist.

"It's my responsibility to teach her the laws, help her with control, and I will...but you're her mother. I won't side-step your decisions. I won't let her join until she's at least sixteen but until then she's under our protection. Can we agree to those terms?"

Luna sighed. "We can and I appreciate it, Alcide. Just...make sure she doesn't turn out like Marcus."

"How Emma turns out is on you and Sam. I'm just the guy who runs the territory."

"You'll be what she strives to be. You and your woman. By the way, sorry for interrupting last night."

"Uh, yeah. Never mind that. C'mon," he nodded towards the stairs, "Jannalyn makes a mean breakfast."

Breakfast. Mmm, she couldn't wait. Nearing the stairs, the smell of frying bacon was pleasant at first, but her stomach flipped and churned violently.

"Oh God." Luna mumbled, gagging while running to the bathroom, only to empty a stomach full of bile into the toilet. She heard Alcide calling for Sam down the hall and a clang of pots downstairs.

Sam knelt next to Luna and held back her long black hair, as the woman clung to the white porcelain for dear life, her body seizing with every gag. "Cher, what can I do?" Sam rubbed at her back, trying to soothe her in some way. If he could, he would suffer morning sickness and all the ails of pregnancy for her, for his child.

"I think...I think I'm pregnant, Sam." She whispered into the toilet and continued to dry heave. The last time her stomach was this upset she had Emma in the oven, so she knew without a shadow of doubt. She tried to sneak glances at Sam to see if he showed signs of fainting or running, but her stomach wouldn't allow it.

"Umm, cher? Ya need me to fetch a test? One of those pee sticks?" Might as well get valid confirmation, something more tangible than the scent of hormones and nausea.

"A pee stick isn't gonna help my stom-" His mate continued to retch out a vital organ and for the first time in his life, the shifter wished he kept it in his pants.

* * *

><p>There was a flurry of activity in the kitchen, a solo production of Betty Crocker on meth.<p>

She moved fluidly, almost pirouetted around the kitchen, as she rummaged the fridge, dug around in the freezer, and stirred this and sautéed that. She had so many things going on at once; on the stove, in the oven, on the counter tops, and Alcide had a hard time keep up.

"Need help?" Alcide asked as he ventured towards the stove.

Her movements stopped and she turned to cup his cheek. On tiptoes, she gave Alcide a morning kiss and a small smile. "Not really." She went back to work; placed two mugs on the counter and proceeded to chop up a root-like vegetable with TV chef precision. "Coffee is made, there's two sheets of bacon and a sheet of biscuits in the oven, the hash browns are done, and scrambled eggs are two minutes out."

A handful of sliced root went into a small saucepan of boiling water.

"Jannalyn, what's that?"

"Jan. Call me Jan."

"Hell no. Jan is what I call my other sister, Janice." There would be no way in hell or on God's green earth. He'll think of something else, anything else.

"Oh?" she was surprised to hear of another sister with a name so similar, but didn't see why it posed a problem for Alcide. "Hmm. Well, this is ginger tea for Luna and Abby. It helps calm nausea." Jannalyn grimaced at the sounds of gagging noises from upstairs and decided to make Luna some toast.

She flitted away to the laundry room to start a load of towels, then returned to the oven to drain the bacon. Two pans of bacon slices were placed onto paper towels and the rendered fat was drained into a jar.

Suddenly, the gagging noises upstairs became more pronounced.

"Shit," she hissed with a raspy edge mirroring the sound of a cobra ready to strike.

"What's wrong?" He hopped out of his chair, expecting a burn from the bacon grease, but found nothing. Jannalyn raised a brow at his inspection, but didn't comment.

"Abby complained the smell of cooked meat made her sick. I believe Luna is experiencing the same. I need to air out the house a little or she'll be stuck to the toilet for the remainder of the morning." With that, she extricated her hands from Alcide and opened the back door, bringing the smell of rain into the house. After a long sniff of the outdoor air, her head tilted in thought. "Alcide, come here for a second and tell me what you smell."

Alcide stood in the threshold and drew in deep breaths, but he couldn't smell anything. "I got nothin'. Nothin' but rain."

"Precisely. Luna and Sam came to the back door last night, right?"

"Yeah." Alcide answered. He would know, he answered the door himself.

"This horrible weather could be blessing in disguise. If the rain washed away shifter scents from last night, evidence of trespassing should be long gone, right?"

"Should be."

Jannalyn is right and normally, the blessing of scent washing rain would've given him hope, but Alcide Herveaux learned hope liked to kick a man square in the nut-sack as soon as he started believing in it.

The storm would wash away proof of Cody's foul up, but the fact the Blood Claws haven't sounded off for a confrontation meant one of three things; one- the Blood Claws aren't patrolling regularly, or two- the Blood Claws are in the middle of a change of power, or three- the Blood Claws are a dismantled pack. The third possibility meant an opposing pack was successful in annihilating a neighbor, which could mean the Long Tooth are next, making the probability of war very real.

Alcide formulated a plan. Bert's historian status could be used. He'd send the old man and an 'apprentice' out to all the surrounding territories under the guise of fact finding for the histories. Of course, Blood Claw territory would be the first visit on the list. The old man is an observant S.O.B. and reconnoitering would be easy for him. If something was amiss, the 'apprentice' would be an added measure of protection for the historian, just in case.

If the current Master of the Blood Claws has no plans to expand, creating an alliance of sorts would be ideal. Thirty years of peace can go a long way in establishing a working relationship to keep out territory hungry packs. Again, that's hope talkin', for an alliance with another large pack is a hard deal to make when macho male egos are involved. Ain't nothin' wrong with tryin' though and he would, for his pack, for everyone's future.

For now, gathering intel, the readiness of the pack, and establishing communication with the Blood Claws is the goal. After breakfast, he'd call Julien and Bert to get 'em on board and hash out the rest of the details.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She leaned against the sink and watched him over a cup of coffee. Her grey eyes observed casually, with a zen-like tranquility he hasn't seen on her before.

"I'm relieved, but despite the rain, it bothers me that they haven't sounded off. Trainin' shouldn't stop until we know what's goin' on."

"Agreed," she smirked. She had no intention of slacking off on training and she understood his concerns without being told. Too many days have lapsed without a peep from the Blood Claws and the lack of action seemed highly suspect. She had a few theories in her head but Alcide didn't ask for her opinion. "Will the Beta and Melinda join us for breakfast?"

"I think so." Alcide retrieved his cellphone from the charger next to the microwave and made the call to Julien. "The Delacroixs are coming."

Jannalyn figured as much, hence the preparation of surplus foods. However, Megan would have a coronary if Jannalyn fed any pregnant woman such unmitigated amounts of sodium, let alone a beloved pack aunt, so Jannalyn retrieved a package of liver to slice. According to Megan, beef liver is relatively cheap, easy on the stomach, and the high iron content makes it a perfect power food for gestating, postpartum, and breastfeeding females. Within a minute, it was at the ready for quick frying.

"Good morning, boss man." Emma chirped out, as she skipped to a halt in the kitchen. Her sudden appearance caused Jannalyn and Alcide to freeze in place. "Hiya, boss lady." The little girl took a seat at the table and waited quietly. The adults were stuck, so Emma tried again. "Umm, Sam said to come down here to eat."

Jannalyn finished washing her hands and handed Alcide two plates and silverware- clearly having no intention of invading the girl's personal space. Alcide walked over to Emma and set the plates down on the table.

"Okay. First things, first. I'm Alcide Herveaux." Emma's brows scrunched together. Boss man is easier to remember and easier to say. "And you are?" Alcide put his giant hand out for the kid to shake.

"I'm Emma Garza." She placed her hand in his big mitt and the two shook with exaggerated up and down motions. Emma remembered what adults say to each other. "Nice to meet you."

Alcide smiled at Emma's outgoing nature. Much better than being afraid. "Nice to meet you, too. Now that we've properly introduced ourselves, there's rules for your first breakfast with me. Don't get too full, too fast, or you'll make yourself sick. Chew everything slowly. Got it, kiddo?"

"Mmkay."

"I'll send this up." With toast slices and a mug of ginger tea, Jannalyn inched out of the kitchen giving a wide perimeter as Alcide rationed food onto Emma's plate. The little one tucked into the food like a ravenous animal, therefore, didn't notice her escape. Alcide tsked Emma a few times and told her to slow down.

Upstairs, she tapped on the bathroom door, ignoring the retching and moaning sounds emanating from within.

"Yeah?" Sam's panicked voice echoed behind the cracked door.

"I have sweetened ginger tea and toast. It should calm her stomach."

Sam raced to retrieve the items from Jannalyn's hands. "Oh, thank you sweet Jesus," he muttered, "I mean, thank you." In two strides, he pushed the mug to Luna's lips.

* * *

><p>"Not even my bestest, bestest friend in the whole wide world?" Emma whined. She was<em> not<em> happy about the rules, not happy about keeping secrets from Theo.

"We can't tell people who aren't like us, best friend or not. Exposin' the secret can put all us in danger." Alcide explained.

"But he already knows about werewolves. His Grampa told him and he told me."

The adults shared a look around the room. The common supposition was that Emma's friend is the grandchild of a retired wolf. The retired are still obligated to keep the secret, so dementia or senility could be factor. Alcide needed to find the leak and put a stop to it.

"What's this boy's full name Emma?" Alcide asked.

"I'm not sayin'," she mumbled as she crossed her arms. Emma saw the way the adults looked around the room and it could only mean someone was in trouble.

"Emma-"Alcide began in a harsh tone, but Emma cut in.

"I SAID, I'm. Not. Sayin'! He's MY friend and friends don't tattle on each other!"

"EMMA!" He tried once more with narrowed eyes and his arms crossed.

"No, no, noooo!" Emma jumped out of her chair and stomped her feet in time to every word. "I don't wanna be a werewolf! I don't wanna follow rules!"

Alcide didn't back pedal like Luna and Sam usually do, so her face turned an unhealthy shade of red and she stomped some more. Meanwhile, Luna and Sam sat back and enjoyed the show. It was about time Alcide became acquainted with Emma's brattier side and they wanted to see how he'd handle it.

"Emma, sit down. I need to know his name." Alcide stated in what he hoped was a calm, authoritative voice.

"No, no, no!" she screeched in an ear drum piercing decibel. "I'm not telling you! I'm not!"

The hissy fit escalated. Her fists beat on the table. Dishes were swept onto the floor sending two plates clanging and food flying. The pinnacle to Emma's foolishness was when she kicked a wooden chair over, barely missing Abby's leg.

"Enough!" Jannalyn hissed in a low dangerous rasp.

Everyone froze. The mated pairs kept their eyes on Jannalyn while the younger wolves averted eyes.

Jannalyn leaned against the sink and made eye contact with Alcide. She gave him a wink in clear view of all the adults, before she nodded for Alcide to continue his conversation with the little hellion in the room, but Alcide decided to go another course.

"Oh, you done did it now." Alcide stage whispered to Emma.

"What?" she whispered back with wide eyes.

"It's a sign of big trouble when ladyfolk shorten sentences down to one word."

Emma looked around at everyone, then at the messy results of her temper tantrum. "Oh no," she gasped.

"Shh. You should probably sit down now." He almost laughed at how fast Emma righted the chair to sit with her head hanging. Her bottom lip poked out, trembled pathetically, and small hands wrung the edge of her nightgown in her lap.

"I'm still not tellin'." Emma mumbled petulantly into her lap, but everyone heard.

The adults were having a really hard time combating the giggles; the women covered their mouths, the men pressed their lips together, but they were losing it. Shoulders were shaking up and down, faces were turning pink from restraint, and Jannalyn had to do something before the adults ruined Alcide's efforts with a cackle.

Jannalyn smiled for a second at the child's loyalty to a friend, but corrected her face into a stern expression. It wouldn't be the first time she played the role of disciplinarian. She's done it before, when Q didn't know how to handle Frannie's antics.

"Emma has a mess to clean up." A damp dish rag landed in Emma's lap. "Can everyone clear out to the living room?"

"Well, I'm outta here." Alcide rose from his seat, gave Emma a solemn look, and patted her shoulder for a more dramatic effect. "Good luck, kiddo."

Emma's head shot up and worried eyes went to Luna and Sam.

"Can't help ya, kid. You created this mess, now ya gotta clean it up." Sam helped Luna from the seat and the couple walked from the room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes folks, I'm implying Emma's friend is a distant relative of the famous Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau. ****A few tidbits of info:**

**_feufollet~ _will-o'-the-wisp; a phosphorous light which hovers over the ground in marshy areas. The lights have many legends in Cajun folklore, each slightly different. Some believe the lights are the souls of unbaptized children, who cannot rest in their graves, and must hover between heaven and earth (limbo). Some believe the dancing lights are ominous signs; souls of the departed coming back to warn of lurking evil or an impending death. Others believe the lights are insane/damned souls, escaped from purgatory, and they attack the living out of jealousy for having physical bodies. No matter the story, the common belief is that the lights are souls, whether it be unbaptized, insane, damned or what have you._  
><em>**

**_lou-lou~ _boogeyman**

**_Papere~ _grandfather_  
><em>**

**_gris-gris~_ an amulet or small cloth bag carried for good luck or to ward off evil. It usually contains a mixture of one or more of the following: herbs, oils, stones, bones, hair, nails, or other personal items.**

**_loup-garoup~ _werewolf**


	19. Targets

**A/N: First and foremost, thank you for the reviews and follows. Second, I know, I know, I've slacked off. The encouraging pms are much appreciated, as well.  
><strong>

**********The rest of this a/n is a rant about the season premiere. Do not read unless you've watched it***********

******Since the show started, me and my girls have always had 'Sunday night ritual', lady/mama-code for our summertime girls night in. One of us hosts a lovely dinner and we usually partake in wine consumption before, during, and after the show.  
><strong>****

******After watching the premiere for this season, the simultaneous gasps, WTFs, and couch pillows that went flying...it was a disaster. The TV was cussed out by five fairly patient, semi-educated, grown-ass women and really, I'm surprised it survived all the f-bombs.  
><strong>****

********Afterwards, the general sentiment was 'there goes the overall appeal'. T******hose jackass writers have taken artistic license****** to a whole new level of garbage. ************How did Alcide go from doing the right thing, keeping his nose clean, eventually killing JD and setting the pack straight in the last season, to _that_? Don't we have enough man-sluts on the show? ****I guess I'm mad that the show preserved the core of the other characters to match what is written in the books, but **our man is so far into left field that he's outta the ballpark and has landed in FOULville. **

**Anyhow, for the first time since the show started, our little club of wine drinkin' show watchin' mommies discussed the potential exclusion of TB from our SNRs. We remained undecided until one of us saw a preview for the next episode last night. The phone calls were made and we caught the preview on HBO's YouTube channel. It's unanimous. **

**We've switched to Dexter (a show I usually recorded on DVR).**

**How does this pertain to the story? Well, if you've seen the preview for episode 2, it seems my version of Alcide is now an out-of-character version (according to the show anyway) and the premise of friendship between Sam (Emma) and Alcide, just went out the window. How should I write Alcide, now? I dunno, I suppose I'm struggling with where to take the story. No worries though, I'll figure it out.  
><strong>

**Okay, I'm done ranting. Enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Nineteen: Targets**

* * *

><p>"I'm done." Emma said. "I think." She blew dark bangs from her forehead and waited for inspection number three.<p>

Jannalyn turned from the sink and crouched down to her height, eyes slowly scanning surfaces. "Hmm." Emma studied her face, trying to snag some indication of whether she's done a good job or not. After what felt like _forever_, the she-wolf nodded for Emma to take up residence in a chair, the same one she upturned an eternity ago.

Emma let out a relieved breath. At least the she-wolf didn't point out some miniscule particle of food and say 'again'.

So far, 'again' and 'hmm' were the only sounds the boss lady made. Still one word sentences. She didn't have to peek to know the lady was staring at her, she felt it. She didn't know how long she sat in that stupid wooden chair waiting for whatever punishment the boss lady was thinking up. It might have been five minutes or maybe ten.

"I didn't want to be a wolf either."

Big brown eyes met grey ones in surprise. "You didn't?"

"Initially, I hated it. I wanted to be a tiger, like my Pappa."

Tiger and papa were said in a weird accent, but Emma didn't have a chance to question it.

"Do you wish you were a shifter, like your mother and Sam?"

Emma sadly nodded a yes. "I don't like being different."

Jan was stuck. She wanted to tell the kid that it's okay to be different, but couldn't. It would have been a cruel, grandiose, straight up lie, because no words could soothe the horrible feeling of being the oddity among family, no matter how much they claim to love you. Luckily, Emma easily veered off topic with a question of her own.

"So," her shoulder reached her ear in a shy manner, "what are tigers like?"

It was the first of a bazillion annoying questions about tigers, wolves, and shifters, that eventually turned into a twenty minute discussion of their main abilities, differences, and weaknesses. The kid seemed engrossed as Jan spoke, concentrating on every word, eagerly absorbing information. A small part of Jan preened at the attention, but a larger part couldn't wait until the questions stopped.

* * *

><p>"Emma" Jannalyn started, "the adults have to speak. You can go upstairs and watch TV." The child glanced at a hanging clock and eagerly stampeded up the stairs, excited to catch one of her morning shows. Jannalyn waited until she heard the click of a shutting door and the loud blare of an annoying cartoon jingle before she addressed Luna with a shake of her head. "Your child is convinced no one can hear her mumblings. She mentioned a Theo a few times."<p>

From what she'd gathered, the boy had a big fat Cajun mouth and now owed Emma several candy bars and 'pushes on the swing' to settle the score for all this drama. She had no idea what the latter meant, but she noted children used candy as gifts of apology. Miniscule amounts of candy and other sweets tended to upset her stomach, so she thought it made an odd gift...but whatever. Understanding children had never been her forte.

"That would be Theodore Laveau." Luna supplied. "I've seen them on the playground at the school, but I didn't know they were close."

"Laveau? As in Marie Laveau?" Julien asked around the room expecting recognition of the name but everyone looked a little confused. "The Laveaus are a family of voodoo practitioners. Been around these parts a long time."

"So this kid and his family are in the know?" Alcide asked.

"Absolutely. Most are genuinely gifted in some way or another- spell casters, clairvoyants, psychics...you name it, they've got it. Most of their people reside in New Orleans, Baton Rouge, and Alexandria, but three moved here a few years back. I've seen the old man and boy. Never seen the third though." Julien didn't seem worried about the family, which eased Alcide's concerns.

"Technically, if they have spell casters, the Laveaus fit under the category of witches, which makes them supes as well. And other supes don't fit into the exposure rule. So, unless one of _them_ outs one of _us, _they've done nothing wrong." Julien nodded in agreement, but when Alcide looked around the room, he sensed the nervous energy coming off of Cody and Kenneth, the knuckle-head and the hothead of all the adolescents. "You two, pass this along to all your brothers- stay the hell away from the Laveaus. Absolutely no confrontations of any kind without my permission. Even if provoked."

As expected, both teens stuttered and puffed, confused by the decision. "Sir?"

"You heard me. None of you speak, raise a lip, or even sniff in their direction, especially you two." Alcide emphasized the point by glaring until they looked away, but he _knew_ deep in his bones that these two needed a little more incentive to keep their noses clean. He stood in front of Cody, eyeing the young man. "I'll be damned if you pick another fight so soon. If you do, you'll be earning an out. You understand?" Alcide didn't wait for an acknowledgement to the threat of exile before he turned to Kenneth. "And you! You think I don't know about the barn?" Alcide hadn't known about the dressing down Jannalyn delivered, until Julien formally apologized on his son's behalf. Hearing the full story of the events irked him, and even though Jannalyn handled the situation, Alcide struggled with the desire to stomp a size thirteen mud hole in that kid's ass. "Keep this shit up and it'll be Johnny Matthews runnin' you boys."

"But he's sixteen!" The two piped up, both offended that a wolf a few years younger had the potential to outrank them.

"And based on your grade school behavior during the last week, that makes you guys, what? Ten?"

"Five." Julien supplied. He glared at his son, then turned to the kid who eyeballed Megan, his little Nutmeg, with a little too much longing. "They'll obey. Won't you boys?"

"We'll obey." The two mumbled. Alcide smirked at Julien, who seemed to be fighting a satisfied smile of his own.

"So what does this mean for Emma? With her bein' friends and all with one of their little ones?" Sam asked, getting everyone back on topic.

"The grandfather picks Theo up from school. We've spoken in passing a few times. Greetings mostly. Maybe I could ask." Luna suggested.

Sam immediately shook his head. "Uh-uh. No fuckin' way, cher." Luna's temperament has been too erratic and she'll likely get herself hexed. Sam knew all about curses and spells. Bad magic is hard to shake, the town-wide fiasco with the maenad being proof.

"Why not? The old man doesn't strike me as evil or anything." Luna thought back to the warm way the boy's grandfather smiled at her in greeting. He didn't say much, but nothing indicated he was fearful or prejudiced.

"Emma!" Alcide called up the stairs and was answered with a 'sir?'. "C'mon down." Poor kid had already been through the mill and Alcide wasn't looking forward to stressing her out further. "Sit in the recliner, kiddo." Emma followed the directions, but her brows crunched together in confusion, an expression that reminded him of Jannalyn. "We figured out who you're best friends with. Theodore Laveau. Is he the boy that told you about werewolves?"

Emma glared at the coffee table, her little fists clenched and her mouth set into a stubborn line. She didn't want to lie, nor was she willing to tattle on a friend, so silence was her only option.

Alcide hadn't explained the reason he needed to know such things, so Jannalyn supplied one. "The adults need to determine if the boy or his family are a threat to you or the pack. Do you understand?"

Emma's head shot up, worried they thought her friend was a threat. "But Theo would never hurt me. He doesn't let the bigger kids hurt me and he tried to give me his gris-gris, the one his grampa gave him."

Luna gasped. "Baby? Bigger kids tried to bully you?"

Emma gave her mother a condescending 'what planet are you from?' look. "Bruce and Beau shoved me and held me down in the sand box once. Theo got spendid 'cause of me."

"You mean suspended." Luna corrected, as she thought back to the playground brawl that had sent three boys home with black eyes.

"That's what I said." Emma replied with a confused blink.

Luna was a teacher at her daughter's school, so how did she miss the attempted school yard bullying of her own child? More than anything, she could kiss little Theo right now. The Carter twins were much larger than Emma, each at least a half foot taller and twenty pounds heavier. "Alcide, Sam, I'll speak to his grandfather."

"Jesus, woman! You tryna make me a nervous wreck?" Sam whined in exasperation at his mate's determination to put herself in danger.

Luna rolled her eyes. "Sam, you're being unreasonable. Mr. Laveau has been nothing but cordial for the last three school years and Theo is obviously a good kid with how he looked out for Emma."

The couple's bickering faded to the background as Jannalyn focused on a creak from a purposely loosened wooden plank on the back porch. "Alcide? Are you expecting anyone?" His eyes were already fixed on the back door. There was another creak, then a squeak, then another.

"No." Every muscle went taut as he went into full alert.

"Who- who is it?" Emma's imagination went wild and her heart raced. She imagined lou-lou and boogeymen had arrived, or worse, maybe her Daddy had come back to take her away.

"Strangers." Jannalyn didn't wait for Luna and Sam to act. She picked up Emma and moved her into a corner. "Stay behind me."

Outside in the pouring rain, hooded figures huddled by the back door.

* * *

><p>Alcide was<em> not<em> prepared, nor particularly happy to have the former members of the pack show up on his doorstep, regardless of gender. The fact that these women were bold enough to seek out his den infuriated him, but he quickly realized they were visiting to determine _his_ character, before asking to return to a pack they once called family.

When he'd asked them why they'd left, most of their stories were the same. Apparently, the former Packmaster believed the title guaranteed a harem of willing women and when they were less than receptive, their prospective partners disappeared without saying anything or taking any personal effects. Five of the women resigned from the pack to find their men and two went along for the ride claiming to be blood cousins of the missing. He didn't have to ask if the men were found, since none of the women who stood in his kitchen were there with partners or marks.

His heart hurt for them, but most of all, it hurt for Abby. He was positive the father of her child was dead, and there wasn't a shred of tangible evidence to confirm or debunk the theory either. His second in command gave a solemn nod, confirmation Julien suspected the same.

Still, Alcide scrutinized the newcomers and tried to gauge their propensity for trouble. All of the females seemed cool, but what stood out was Abby's reactions to the group. She hugged all of the women, except Ricki, only offering a curt nod in her direction. Then when she wasn't looking, Ricki stared at Abby's stomach with a hostility he couldn't understand. As if sensing it, Abby met her gaze. There was brief stare down between the two, one that told him they were sizing each other up. Ricki broke eye contact first, her eyes again landing on Abby's stomach briefly before returning her attention to Alcide.

His features hardened as he observed Ricki and her interaction with Abby, keeping his eyes on the _only_ threat in the room. Ricki seemed to enjoy the attention- having mistaken it for interest. _You're barking up the wrong tree. Jan would eat you alive_- he thought, as he took in the wide-eyed attentiveness and excitement focused squarely on him. Women like her were hardly guided by a moral compass; she'd seduce, manipulate, and happily sway from one extreme to the other, just for an opportunity to elevate herself. His stomach churned and his skin crawled as he realized who she reminded him of, _she's a drug-free, brunette version of Debbie... Probably just as crazy, too_. Alcide thought to himself.

The next thing he knew, Ricki gave a smug smirk to someone over his right shoulder, where Abby previously stood. As a general rule of thumb, most wolves avoided physical confrontations with gestating females, but he was sure that wouldn't stop Ricki from taking a swing at Abby. Did she think he'd let that slide? Yeah, she's crazy alright. This bitch had to go and he'd throw her out on her face if he had to.

* * *

><p>The situation was less than ideal. There were too many warm bodies to dodge, too many wolves to watch, and too much activity in the overcrowded space of the kitchen. Her eyes flicked back and forth from both exits which weren't easily accessible at the time, innocently crowded by wolves but blocked all the same. In avoiding accidental touches from strangers, Jan found she had backed herself into the corner near the sink, a nerve racking scenario the Beast didn't appreciate.<p>

_Breath in. _

_Don't panic._

_Breath out._

_Imagine they're vampires. _

_Breath in. _

_Cold vampires._

_Breath out._

While she internally struggled to restrain the Beast, a single observation made her frown. No one bothered to introduce her, as if her existence was completely forgotten. The lack of introduction was incredibly rude, but she knew it was much better than the alternative. If any eyes were fixated in her direction at the moment, the outcome wouldn't have been good.

She forced her eyes to Alcide, trying to distract both sides of her psyche with casual observation, but doing so was a mistake.

The new females showed some sense, if not some courtesy in avoiding long gazes at Alcide, all except the one named Ricki. The scent of a female already on Alcide apparently meant very little to her and it was obvious by the way she slowly, deliberately undressed Alcide with her eyes with no regard to who witnessed it.

Jan did not react. She anticipated the attention but she wasn't prepared for his reaction- the intensity of the gaze he returned. His heartbeat had accelerated just enough for Jan to notice; just as he seemed to catalog the same things Jan saw- a pretty, athletic woman with flawless skin and a breathtaking smile- a better overall match.

A harsh thought summarized the meat of the matter. Sure, Alcide's wolf liked Jan, but what can she offer the _man_? She thought of a few positive attributes, but standing in the same room with Ricki made her feel completely inadequate in every qualifying department. Unlike Ricki, Jan wasn't a choice cut to covet or fight over. She was a morsel of gristle; a woman comprised of the nastier fucked up bits that were harder to chew, to digest, and were normally discarded.

The longer he stared at Ricki, the more it seemed the small reciprocation of his attention and affections was all for naught, as fleeting as it was. She slept in the same bed, played live-in girlfriend all morning, and that quickly she was forgotten, discarded to the background like last week's trash on the way to the dump.

_He'll stray. He hasn't even looked back once._

Luna was the only one to notice Jan's grip of the counter's edge, the wood squeaking under the pressure of her hands. No one else noticed, not the women, definitely not Alcide, and Luna's sympathetic frown felt like a kick to the midsection.

Ricki must have seen something on Jan's face, some betrayal of insight on what the she-wolf was thinking and feeling at the moment... and then the bitch made eye contact and smirked in triumph, clearly pleased with whatever she saw.

And that was all the Beast needed to rear its ugly head.

The room exploded into a shit storm of flying bodies.

Her assault was silent, other than bodies and furniture crashing as Jannalyn swiftly charged thru the crowd of wolves like a wrecking ball. It was pure pandemonium.

Within seconds, her hands wrapped around Ricki's throat, but she had no intention of removing her head. No. She would revel in Ricki's fear and watch the life fade from her eyes, as she was slowly strangled that smirk off her face.

As soon as Ricki realized there was no way she could get free, she stopped fighting back and tried to act passive in an attempt to stop Jan's assault. What she didn't know, is that it wouldn't work. Jan kept squeezing anyway.

Alcide yelled for everyone to break up the fight and swiftly carried Abby out of harm's way. He stepped back into the kitchen in time to see Jannalyn backhand Julien, Kenneth, and Cody all at once... literally throwing them across the room in a single sweep. She connected with such force that he heard a brittle crack and saw the start of intense red oozing from her elbow. He was sure the newly healed stitches had reopened, but she didn't cry out in pain.

Without batting a lash, she resumed her assault, going straight for Ricki's throat once more. Ricki's lips were turning blue and if Jannalyn applied anymore pressure, her throat would be crushed.

Alcide stepped in and grabbed her from behind to lift her off of the prone female, but got head butted in the process-right in the smacker. Tasting his own blood made adrenaline surge through his body, giving him the added strength he needed to separate the two. For a second, he thought he had her, but boy was he wrong. She was slicker than an oiled rattlesnake. Easily, with a simple twist of her hips and a roll, she had their positions reversed and once again he was on his back with his arms pinned above his head, causing everyone in the room to halt.

Moving nothing but her eyes, she briefly scanned the room, staring everyone down until they looked away. She dragged in a breath as her eyes settled on Emma, and with a full body shudder, she raised up and took off into the rain, like her ass was on fire.

Alcide ran after her, watching her rip clothes off her body as she ducked and dodged around trees, sheets of rain descending upon them. As soon as she shifted, she turned around and snapped her jaws, warning him to keep his distance.

"Whoa. Where ya runnin' off to? Don't ya wanna talk?"

Her black wolf answered with a low growl and another snap. _Like you care_- she thought.

It seemed she was too pissed off to tolerate his presence, so with an inward sigh, Alcide backed off. "Alright. We'll talk later. Come home when you're ready." By the time he finished the sentence, she was gone.

* * *

><p>"What the fuck was that?" Sam asked. Alcide shrugged offering no explanation. "C'mon man, she looked at me like she ain't never seen me before. And her eyes. They were black. No blaze at all."<p>

A round of mumbled agreements circulated around the room and Alcide slightly cringed as stress lines appeared on his forehead. He hadn't known she wasn't herself. The Beast was loose for a full minute and in that solitary minute, she destroyed his kitchen and nearly strangled Ricki to death.

Alcide looked around, noticing that he now had the full attention of everyone in the house. They were waiting to hear what he had to say, waiting to hear some explanation or verdict.

However, he had no intention of explaining Jannalyn's condition without her permission. And if they wanted a verdict for the assault and chaos in his den, he had already decided. Technically, if he could smell Jannalyn's scent on his person, he knew everyone else could, too. And due to their current living arrangement, her scent was everywhere. One could even smell her on the food from the brief contact during preparation.

He was glad he listened to his wolf's urges the other night, because he couldn't think of a clearer sign of consent and intent, other than the mark she wasn't ready to give nor receive. So in his opinion, given the evidence of scent, Jannalyn was well within her rights to put any bitch in her place, just as he would be towards any male who showed such obvious interest.

Alcide gave a murderous glare in the direction of the visitors, who were huddled around Ricki's gasping form. "The next time any of you wanna step on somebody's toes, make sure it ain't the Ripper's." The words incited a bit of panic among the new females. "Shut up! You're lucky she stopped at all!" he hollered before turning back to the shifter. "Don't hold it against her, Sam. You know she's got good in her, too."

Sam squinted, sensing the half truth-half bullshit lie in that statement. It seems Quinn isn't the only one holding out, when it came to Jannalyn.

"I knew she was off. I should have said something." Luna admitted, staring at the floor in guilt.

"What do you mean?"

Luna explained that Jannalyn spent several minutes staring at the exits, that she resembled a trapped animal trying to find a way out. Alcide knew from experience that Jannalyn didn't appreciate that sort of thing and based on her natural reaction to warmth and then the added element of strangers, he should have realized he was setting her up to blow. That was dick move number one.

Dick move number two was when he failed to introduce his woman like a happily taken man normally does (Abby's words of wisdom). "If Ricki thought you were interested, imagine what Jannalyn thought."

_Son of a bitch_. He didn't need this kind of relationship drama so soon, but he had to admit, he would have thought the same thing if the situation were reversed. Luckily for him, Jannalyn likes to think things through. He'll explain when she gets back. _If she comes back-_ his wolf grumbled. Alcide pushed away the thought, cleared his mind of it. Of course, she'll come back. She just needed space to blow off some steam.

While he and Abby were on the topic of Ricki, he decided to ask about their issues. "You wanna tell me what you and her are beefin' about?"

"Tony. She wanted him a while back. Basically told me in so many ways that she was willing to share, with me being number two. But I don't share, so I kicked her ass."

"Well, she's gotta go. Can't have no one looking at you like that."

"Emma!" Luna yelled from the living room. "Sam? Where is she?"

"No." Alcide breathed out. Knots started to coil up in his gut as he searched the house and yard, not finding her. "Fuck!" There was no denying it after he found her clothes- Emma was gone. Losing a pup to boot, especially one so young, screamed incompetent mate and Packmaster in bright flashing lights. _Kiss those hypothetical babies goodbye_- his wolf seemed to grumble, the image of diapered infants slowly faded to black in the back of his mind.

* * *

><p><em><em>Home, my ass<em>- _she thought_. _He sure liked to throw that word around. She wondered how many women he'd tricked with the fated Third Pair of mates crap and if he'd use that same line on Ricki. If he thought she'd come back after the shit he just pulled, that she'd take a backseat to _any_ bitch, or believed that she was desperate enough to share, he was sorely mistaken. _Ricki can have him._

For the first time in years, the desire to return to the nest entered her mind. She longingly stared into the western horizon towards Dallas. _You were right, Godric._ Finding a place among wolves had been a painful and fruitless endeavor and now, it's simply too dangerous. She was too different, too _other_ to fit in a pack and experience with slavery made it impossible to be a subordinate anyway. It was pointless. She'd wasted so much time.

She paced the invisible border in her switched form as she contemplated visiting Godric just to tell him how right he was since the beginning, but he no longer lived in Dallas. She smelled him here, in Shreveport, at that bar. And if he's here that means...

_Quinn is in danger._

She'd been so distracted with Alcide and _his_ pack that the thought hadn't registered. _Selfish_- the Beast hissed and it was right. A wave of anger hit her like a tsunami with the weight of her own stupidity. All along the Beast was warning her, but she ignored it. For _him_. The same _him_ who couldn't stop eyefucking another woman to bother with a proper introduction. She felt like a world class fool._ You should. He forgot all about you until you nearly killed the bitch._

She punched the closest tree, causing fragile limbs to rain down around her.

As much as she didn't want to go back, Sam was still there and he was the only person who knew where Quinn was at the moment. With another long look over the horizon, she shimmered into her wolf and headed back to Alcide's.

She came upon a clearing where _his_ white wolf and several others had noses to the ground. They were searching for something and failing due to the rain. She hoped they weren't searching for her.

A drenched collie and a red fox stood five feet away, both forms shimmering to switch. Alcide and the others also switched to converse, but were further away. She noticed Ricki was among them. _Of course_- she huffed. _Might as well see what the shifters want._

Once again, switching in front of a crowd of wolves earned several muttered curses. For whatever reason, Alcide snarled at the new group of females. His dimming eyes zeroed in on her busted hand and the blood pooling next to her feet. She ripped her eyes away from the cut on his lip, focusing instead on the shifters._ I don't care_- she reminded herself. In her periphery, Alcide inched closer with a guilty apologetic expression. _Too late. I'm on to you._

"Emma ran off." Sam yelled over the heavy downpour. "She's afraid of thunder and we can't find her scent in this rain."

"Who saw her last?" Jannalyn eyes moved from one person to another. All the wolves, save Alcide and Julien, shrunk back under her glare.

"The fight broke out, you left, then the next thing we knew Emma was gone." Luna explained. "Is it possible that she followed you?"

Jannalyn stared at Luna, then at Sam, then at Alcide- trying to figure out if it was all a ploy for an ambush. "I don't understand why she would, but if she tried, she's lost now," she said after a moment. Those words were the wrong thing to say in front of Luna, who began to cry against Sam's shoulder. At realizing the error, she internally cursed herself, but controlled her features.

Had Emma followed her? _Boss lady._ It was highly plausible now that she was thinking about it. After pinning the most dominant male in front of the baby wolf, it probably solidified the assumption.

She did not have time for this! Emma was not her problem, but she couldn't shut down the desire to help in the search. It's not Emma's fault that the adults were too distracted by pretty new faces to keep an eye on an impulsive pup. Her thoughts took a dark turn. She wanted to bite and shake the shit out of everyone, including the shifters. _No. Not our place_- she reminded herself and the Beast, just in case that froggy bitch had any ideas of taking over again to do just that.

"We can't fly and you guys can't find her scent. What do we do now?" Sam frantically asked a concerned Alcide. The wolves began to shout suggestions at each other, but all of those suggestions were shot down by Alcide.

The run to the edge of the territory was too fast for a pup to keep pace, but if Emma was afraid of thunder she couldn't have gone too far. The girl may have taken cover somewhere. A visual search was the only option, but as she scanned the environment, all she could see were mud holes from everyone else's paw prints. If Jan started a mental grid and searched block by block, it could work, but it was only a matter of time before the rain washed away Emma's prints. By her estimations, an hour was all she had before the trail went completely cold.

"I can find her, but I'm doing it alone."

"How are you gonna find her when we can't?" Alcide asked skeptically.

"I have my ways. Look around." Jan gestured towards the ground at the various prints in the mud. "You've already made a visual search difficult, so tell your pack to go back."

Alcide's spine shot straight up as she stated her lone wolf status, that she was_ not_ one of them. He grew increasingly frustrated that in less than an hour, they were back to square one. "Go back and what? Wait?" he asked with gritted teeth.

"Yes." They could go back to sniffing each others' asses for all she cared, as long as they were out of the way.

"She may not come back with you. I'm comin' with."

Alcide had a point, so she didn't argue. "Fine. Stay behind me." Without so much as a glance at the other wolves, Jannalyn turned and took off.

* * *

><p>Alcide followed her through the woods, noting the slight difference in the way her wolf moved through the trees. He could've been imagining it, but she moved with a feline quality- graceful, balanced movements that were eerily silent despite the fast pace through the wet environment. His paws seem to slosh in comparison, undoubtedly announcing his location and leaving obvious tracks.<p>

Abruptly, she stopped at the border to sniff the edge carefully. She switched and knelt down to Emma's height to search beyond the invisible line in every direction, scanning for paw or foot prints and bent fauna.

"Why were you so close to the border?" Alcide asked once he switched as well. Even with the downpour, he could smell her scent here, indicating she spent several minutes toeing the line, pacing. He spotted the tree she hit, the bark splintered and stained with blood. "Were you leavin'?" She didn't answer. Alcide noticed a strong male scent across the neutral zone and the strongest scent would be- _Oh fuck no_. "Tryna to get in good with another Packmaster?" he accused.

Her eyes cut over to him. "Watch yourself. You've mistaken me for that ridiculous red headed ex of yours." She hadn't seen, smelled, or talked to another Packmaster on the original run, but she wasn't in the mood to explain herself or contradict his asinine assumptions. He could think what he wanted.

She ignored him as he ranted, talking about things she wasn't in the mood to hear or talk about. Blocking out his voice, she spotted an oak, her eyes roaming upwards until she saw something that made her head tilt.

Alcide had no idea what she was doing until she heaved herself up onto a branch, not at all concerned that he was in the middle of explaining his side of things. Hell, she wasn't concerned he could see her nethers from below, either. He watched from the ground as she climbed like a cat, strong arms and legs moving in tandem to take her higher and higher.

_What the fuck is this?_- is what he wanted to ask. _Wolves don't climb trees._ Most have a natural fear of unreasonable heights, including Alcide. On most construction sites, he never ventured higher than a single story roof top and even then, he usually tethered himself to a chimney...but as she approached the three story mark, he decided the climb was unreasonably dangerous. "What are you doin'?" he yelled up.

She stopped climbing to stare down at him. "What's it look like?" she rasped, confused by the horror on his face. "A view of the landscape gives me a mental map to work from. A grid."

"A what? You're gonna fall!" He followed her form at the base of the tree, just in case she did.

"Could you squawk any louder?" she scowled down at him and his mouth dropped open. "And no, I won't fall." _Not for you, not for any of your bullshit, and definitely not from this tree.  
><em>

Without holding on to anything, she balanced on a branch, idle hands resting on her hips as she took in the view from several directions. Then, in a move that nearly gave Alcide a heart attack, she made a running leap into another tree, catching a branch with her hands to swing forward like a gymnast on the parallel bars. She dismounted onto a thicker branch, landing with perfect balance.

He nearly died just watching her. "Holy motherfuckin' hell. Get down before you fall!"

She muttered a few choice complaints as she searched the surrounding grounds, before descending half way down the tree. The last fifteen feet she dropped straight down into a crouch, barely making any noise whatsoever.

"You," she growled, stalking forward with blazing eyes and clenched fists, "are a costly expenditure to my time and patience. If you won't shut up long enough for me to concentrate or hinder anymore progress with your need to discuss issues, you can find her yourself." She didn't wait for a retort. Instead, she shimmered into her black wolf to continue the search.

* * *

><p><em>Boogeymen are real.<em>

All of Emma's senses told her _something else_ was in those woods with her, watching her, stalking after her. Twigs snapped in the distance and when she looked in the direction of the sound, she saw a grey hand with long fingers and black nails, curled around a narrow tree.

With a yelp, she ran in the other direction as fast as she could, but one look over her shoulder revealed the creature was gaining on her. She didn't know what else to do, so she hid under a mangrove and closed her eyes, willing it to go away. Its breathing sounds were hollow and whatever it was, smelled like rotting meat.

A long skinny grey arm reached through the roots and it's claws kept trying to grab at her. It circled the mangroves, skittering and hungry, desperately trying to find an entry point, from above, from the left, from the right.

If it caught Emma, she knew she was dead.

After a while, it just stopped. It huffed several times and it reminded Emma of the hollow sound of a balloon being filled. Its webbed feet turned and it scattered away, taking the awful smell with it.

* * *

><p>An hour had passed. There were no signs of Emma; no scent, no tracks, no wandering little girl or wolf, but the grid eventually paid off. Jannalyn found a soaked tuft of fur snagged on a bush and shortly afterwards, she spotted rain filled paw prints.<p>

Jannalyn pointed the prints out to Alcide, and with a nod, both followed her trail.

As if finding her wasn't enough, coaxing the pup out of the tangled roots of a mangrove was a task as well. But she finally got Emma out into the open. Another clap of thunder nearly sent the yelping pup back into hiding, but Jannalyn's hand snapped forward to grip the scruff of the pup's pelt. Simultaneously, the little wolf went limp, her body curled slightly into a fetal position, rendered submissive, silent, and immobile from exhaustion and fear.

"Switch. Now." Jannalyn demanded in a firm authoritative voice. She had other things to do now and was fully prepared to hand the child over to Alcide as soon as possible. With a long lupine whine, the pup changed into a shivering, red faced, snotty nosed Emma. The girl let out high pitched sob as her little arms tightly circled around Jannalyn's neck, shocking and almost choking the she-wolf. "Shh, hush now, little girl." It was oddly reminiscent of something Ludwig would say.

As Jannalyn carried Emma, Alcide trailed a few feet behind, listening to their hushed exchanges.

"I'm scared."

Those two words made Jannalyn flinch. She swore she'd get the kid an armload of candy bars to make up for it. "I know. I didn't mean to scare you earlier."

"Not you-" Emma was cut off by nature. Another clap of thunder boomed, vibrating deep in the pits of their stomachs.

Alcide smelled it when Emma peed, but Jannalyn didn't react with disgust or anger, nor did she stop trudging through the woods. She merely shushed the child's mumbled apologies and muttered something about both of them getting sick on candy bars.

Emma didn't say anything else.

* * *

><p>The rain eventually slowed to a drizzle, the drops growing lighter and softer as the minutes passed.<p>

When the trio finally reached Alcide's backyard, the wolves drew in to greet them, but Jannalyn's lips curled back and she growled until they stepped away. She moved quickly to deliver the child to her relieved mother, ignoring the whispered inquiries as to whether she was angry with the lot of them.

She had a difficult time pulling the child's arms and legs away, and couldn't without hurting her, so she gave up. "A little help?"

After a quick peck and a deep sniff of Emma, Luna snorted with an amused smile. "Give her a minute to relax. She'll let go, eventually."

"Sam, I need to find Quinn."

"He usually shows up at the bar in the early evenin'." Sam replied, noting the time. "Still have a few hours til he shows, 'round five."

"The bar next door to your place?" Sam nodded uncomfortably in her direction, but was relieved when the scowl on her face disappeared. "Thank you. I can find him from there."

Alcide slipped into basketball shorts glaring at Sam for giving his girl too much information and an easy out. With wide eyes that expressed a silent 'what?', the shifter shrugged at the wolf. There's no point in lying. If anything, Sam pointed out the extra time that gave Alcide plenty of opportunity to hash out their problems. It was her prerogative whether she wanted to or not, and it wasn't Sam's fault she wasn't up for it.

Jannalyn tried to move Emma, but the kid's grip tightened. "Child, I have a tiger to meet."

During the long walk back, Emma had time to reflect on the stories told by Theo. The Tainted Keitre was the only monster description that matched what she saw in those woods today; the only one with skinny limbs, grey skin, and black fingernails. That _thing_ didn't go away until right before the bosses showed up and she suspected it had more to do with the boss lady than the boss man. In the lady's arms, was now the safest place to be and no one could convince her otherwise.

"Can't I come?" Emma pleaded with a trembling lip.

"No." The short answer came out harsher than Jan intended and it seemed to upset the girl even more, but with the mood Jan was in, that lip could shake all the way off of Emma's face and it still wouldn't work.

"Can't it wait?" Alcide asked, as he wiped excess water from his forehead.

"No."

Emma noticed that the boss lady was back to one word sentences, so she snuggled closer and played with a strand of the she-wolf's hair, hoping to calm her.

"What happened to training at three and meeting him together?"

_More distractions_, but she agreed to train the women. She growled in displeasure. "Fine. Today is the last day of training. Get them there now, so I can be done before dusk. Those new women," she jutted her chin out, "do not fit under the original agreement. As for meeting Quinn together, I no longer think it's a good idea."

Alcide was literally, a thread shy of blowing the fuck up. She wouldn't hear him out, nor could she look at him without a scowl on her face, and now, she's willing to drop everything to get away from him. He may deserve the dog house for being a complete fuck up today, but her attitude still pissed him off somethin' severe. She's had a bad day and he didn't want to make it worse, so he checked his temper. "You gonna come in and at least get a shower 'fore we head out?"

Jan regarded Emma for a minute, just to avoid looking at _him_. With an impatient growl, she turned towards the house, the shifters walking alongside them. "You have to let go sometime, and by the way, you owe me big."

Alcide wasn't sure who those words were meant for, but now that she was steps from his door, he didn't need anyone else giving her a reason to leave prematurely. "Melinda, get last night's group to the barn. Everybody but Abby and the Merlottes, go home." Alcide announced loudly.

"Don't make me leave!" Emma cried.

"Calm down. He doesn't mean you, Emma." Jannalyn whispered.

"But I'm not a Merlotte. Me and Mommy are Garzas." Emma whispered back, confused.

"Won't be for very long, if I can help it." Sam started, but backpedaled when Luna's head shot up. "I mean, if your mama agrees."

"I agree," Luna rushed out. "I mean," she copied, "I will, I do, and whatever a judge needs to hear."

"Are you playin' with me, woman? 'Cause if you change your mind in an hour-"

"Shut up, Sam."

It made her sick to watch the happy pair, so she quickly disappeared into the house with Emma, while the shifters had a brief celebratory make-out session in the rain.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, what do you think? There's a lot going on in this chapter. **


	20. Conspiracies

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed. Thanks for your patience. Here's an extra long chapter, a little over 9K words.

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><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Twenty: Conspiracies  
><strong>

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><p>"I heard something about you." Emma randomly blurted out, after Jan placed her in the dry tub.<p>

"So?" It was a harsh and somewhat childish conversation killer, but Jan didn't care to have a conversation with anyone at the moment, especially an eight year old with an endless supply of questions.

"Are you the Ripper?"

Her jaw ticked. Obviously, the baby wolf overheard one of those stupid cunts using her old Pit name. Instead of answering, she deflected with a question of her own.

"If you're afraid of storms, why did you run away in one?"

Emma's mouth dropped open, appalled and simultaneously insulted by the she-wolf's assessment. "I didn't run away. _You_ ran away."

"Did not." Jan's eyes narrowed. Sparing the pup from lifelong psychological scars was _not_ running away.

"Did, too!" Emma argued. "And then the bossman came back without you." Jan's harsh countenance morphed into confusion, so Emma tried to explain. "He gave up and left you out there. Alone."

"So you thought you'd come after me." Emma nodded an emphatic yes and the ice in Jan's heart melted a little. "When I took off, I wanted to be alone for space and quiet. If I take off again, _do not_ follow."

"You're gonna take off, again?"

"Hush it, kid. You're filthy."

With her fingers, she combed out forest debris from the child's long damp hair. Once that was done, Jan supervised a regular shower routine of lather, rinse, and repeat, with a side of conditioner made with some de-tangler technology, whatever that was, followed by a vigorous scrub down. The hand-held shower head was pulled from the wall and the rinsing process began.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"What doesn't?"

"A storm isn't quiet."

"You talk too much." Jan lifted the spray, aiming at her face.

"Hey! Quit that!" Emma batted the spray, splashing Jan in the process, but the kid was giving a death glare, clearly _not_ in a playful mood. "You didn't answer." Emma pointed out, visibly irritated at Jan for trying to start a water fight and for dancing around the original question. "Are you the Ripper, or not?"

Jan inclined her head in response to the girl's intimidation tactics, which was sort of cute, not that she'd let the kid know. The term _angry doused kitten_ came to mind, matching Emma perfectly. The crossed arms was an imitation of Alcide's 'no-bullshit' stance and the angry scowl was an exact replica of Luna's.

"I haven't denied it, so you have your answer." The admission seemed to have no effect on the child, so she knew Emma hadn't heard the stories yet. "It's a name I don't use anymore," she added, letting her know it was unacceptable to address her as such, just in case the kid got any bright ideas.

"But those women were scared, why?"

"Eventually, you'll hear stories," she started, eyeing the child's reaction, "of some of the really bad things I've done. Some are fabrications, but the majority are true."

"What are fabications?"

"Fabrications," she corrected. "Tall tales. Made up stories. Lies."

"Did you... kill somebody?" Fucking murderer is what the gasping woman whispered to another after Alcide yelled at them, but Emma didn't want to repeat those words. She suspected it would either anger or hurt the boss lady's feelings.

Jan almost swayed on her feet. This child, this innocent untarnished soul, asked the single question Jan wanted to avoid. Her answer would alter any positive perception of her and she knew it, but if her past was anyone's business to tell, Emma might as well know the unblemished truth from the source.

"Several thousand somebodies. People like us. Vampires. Other creatures." Her voice grew quiet. "A human."

"Why?"

It was the simplest of questions but the hardest to answer. It would take all day to explain and yet, the kid wasn't crying, backing away, or running to her parents. Her giant attentive brown eyes held no judgement, only curiosity as she waited.

_What the actual fuck? Deflect and evade. Deflect and evade. _"I smell like urine and we're wasting hot water. Now, wrap yourself in a towel and give me some privacy. No more talking until after I'm washed." She lifted the child from the tub and gently pushed her to the towel rack, but the shadow of feet moved beneath the bathroom door, spooking Emma again.

"But...I wanna stay with you." Emma pleaded, grabbing a hold of the shower curtain like a lifeline. "I promise I'll be quiet."

Jan also noticed the shadows, but unlike Emma, she was positive it was Alcide trying to corner her again for another 'talk'. _Don't look at her_- Jan tried to tell herself, but she did. _Damn it. _The trembling lip was working, but giving in would do more harm than good.

"Brush your teeth and comb your hair. I'll be out in a few minutes." There was no hint of coddling in the order, which seemed to work, but the true test was if Emma made it beyond five feet before scurrying back. "I'm not far. Not far at all."

Slowly, the pup ventured beyond the shower curtain, eyeing the door like it was supposed to burst open. When nothing happened, she began the motions of drying herself off. After the second pass of a comb through towel damp hair, Jan slid the curtain closed for a semi-private shower.

As Jan washed, she wished she wasn't in Louisiana. She longed for some place normal and predictable, not some ass backwards swamp that kept messing with her mind and emotions. Since her arrival, nothing has made sense. This place and the people here have turned Ludwig's psychological diagnosis and everything she believed on its head.

And Emma? Even though she hasn't heard the stories yet, Jan just confessed to killing thousands without any explanation or justification. The kid should be running in the opposite direction, not trying to take up permanent residence around her waist. There was _more_ going on with Emma; something unsaid, something more than anxiety.

_Don't do it, Jan. Emma is not your problem.  
><em>

_Selfish_- the Beast hissed immediately. It was the same single word one-liner that let Jan know it wasn't happy about something. It was still very present in her head, but it wasn't fighting to the surface for supremacy. It lingered at the half-way point but remained surprisingly still... observing... focused on the kid covered in the sour scent of fear that overpowered the aroma of lavender shampoo and lilac soap.

_What the hell? _ The question wasn't necessarily directed at the Beast, but it answered anyway._  
><em>

_Pup... runs..._ the Beast hissed out sharply, hesitating as it enunciated the two new words in its vocabulary. It was thoroughly annoyed at Jan's shock, but it streamed images of the muddy pup, yelping pathetically as their hands reached for the pup's fur.

_I know. She doesn't run from us, but don't do it, Beast. Don't you dare become attached.__  
><em>

The Beast was perplexed that a wolf-child chose to follow _them, _that Emma chose _their_ company over the shifters, the Packmaster, and a dozen other wolves, but it showed Jan what was bothering it the most. The stench of fear was most potent in the woods, yet was absent all morning until the visitors arrived. It showed Jan their brief conversation in the woods.

_"I'm scared."_

_ "I know. I didn't mean to scare you earlier."_

_"Not you. I-" _

_Not me_- she thought. It filled her with warm feelings of acceptance, but the seed of a viable question was planted. Who is scarier to a child than a self-confessed murderer? Just as Jan rinsed off, Emma peeked in with a mouthful of foamy toothpaste. She squeaked when she met hard grey eyes that meant business.

"We need to talk, kid."

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><p>Alcide had been silent, furiously stewing in his own misery, but leave it to his baby sister to say the most annoying thing possible.<p>

"You screwed up, brother." Abby stated the obvious, earning a roll of the eyes.

"What's left to do? She ain't hearin' me," he defended in a low grumble. "I'd have better luck apologizin' to a brick wall." _Fuck._ He felt emasculated sitting at the scratched up table talking about his _feelings_, so he shoved another forkful of food into his mouth to keep from saying more.

Sam came down the stairs after dropping off an outfit for Emma outside of the bathroom door. In a dazed state, he fetched Luna from the couch to join Alcide at the table, replaying the conversation he overheard between Jan and his step-daughter.

_Several thousand somebodies. _Not a _couple_ or a _few _hundred, but _several_ thousand_. _

The number was staggering enough to make him pause at the bathroom door, but he noticed Jan didn't sound proud of it and the patient tolerance to Emma's questions put to rest any fears Sam had for his step-daughter's safety. The she-wolf saved his life and found Emma, two redeeming actions. That had to count for something, right?

"She strikes me as a don't-fuck-up-in-the-first-place kind of gal." Abby continued her line of thought, despite the new company.

"Ya think?" Alcide snapped in Abby's direction.

"Well, with that kind of attitude, I see why she's not receptive." Abby mumbled.

"Christ, Abby! Can it, will ya?!" Alcide grounded out.

Abby huffed, crossing her arms over her stomach. "I'm just trying to help. You don't have to get shitty, Alcide." Her voice cracked at the end and she cursed the turbulent emotions and hormones of pregnancy.

He groaned. "I know, Abby. I don't mean to take it out on you." Oh, but it was too late, Abby was already tearing up and he couldn't stand to see the waterworks. _Great. Smooth move asshole- _He thought, as he smacked a hand over his face and scrubbed across his eyes in frustration. "Shit. C'mere sis." He grabbed a leg of the wooden chair she was sitting in and dragged it closer for a firm one-armed hug. "I'm sorry, Abs."

She wiped at her face and leaned into his shoulder. "Me, too."

"You can sock my sorry ass, if it'll make ya feel better," he teased, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Call it years of sisterly rights you haven't cashed in on yet."

She nodded a refusal and a giggle escaped. "Nah, I'll save all forms of violence for when you do something incredibly stupid with your nephew."

"There's a problem." Jan interrupted, in an alarmingly grave tone as entered the kitchen with Emma on her hip. Her clothes were askew, like she dressed herself while her body was still damp. "A creature hunted Emma in the woods before we found her. I know what it is, but I don't know if it'll be an ongoing problem."

"Theo told me about monsters. It's a tainted keitre." Emma confirmed.

Alcide walked over to Jan and scooped Emma into his arms. "What else did he tell you about it?"

"He gave her a description, but not much else. You _need_ Quinn. Defer to his contacts and expertise in supernatural matters. Perhaps, he could come here-"

"Like hell he will. It's Merlotte's or nothin'." Alcide growled out, pissed she would even suggest such a thing. It was bad enough that she thought he needed Quinn's help, but the idea of _her fuckin' weretiger_ stepping foot near his den had his wolf itching for a fight. "Looks like we're meetin' him together, after all."

* * *

><p>The others<em> conveniently<em> decided to ride together and Sam claimed no more seat belts were left for Jan to ride safely, so again, she was stuck in a predicament of being alone with Alcide.

"Co-conspirators," Jan glared at the ground, "every last one of you." She got in and pressed her body to the door, giving ample room between them. Thankfully, the Packmaster was preoccupied with making several calls on his cell the entire way to the Monroe property. Neither spoke to the other, until the blue pick-up stopped.

"We need to talk," he said in a low voice, "an' we're not leaving this truck 'til-"

"Must we revisit this, again?" she mumbled.

"Will you lemme finish?" He snapped. She blinked in irritable boredom and with a roll of her shoulders, she turned her head and settled into objective attention. "Look, I'm sorry. I screwed up this mornin'. I shoulda stayed close, kept you by my side."

She didn't move, but her features grew hard and her eyes darkened. It was bad, worse than he could have imagined and he felt like a five year old standing in a principal's office.

"So you could ignore the signs of my sanity slipping _and_ forget to introduce me _while_ I stood next to you?" she questioned coldly. "No thanks."

_Ouch._ When she worded it like _that_, it sounded ten times worse. "It was fucked up and I'm sorry, alright? I understand why you're mad. Believe me, I get it."

"No, you don't. Did you forget the baseless accusation of trying to 'get in good' with another Packmaster? If only you knew how ridiculous the notion- and the references regarding _my fuckin' weretiger_, I've run out of patience for it. I feel like I'm paying for someone else's mistakes."

Alcide wasn't use to being here, wasn't' familiar with being the wrongful party. That had been Debbie's role for a good part of twelve years and their version of fixing problems was a careful game of walking on eggshells to avoid discussion, but with Jan, that was unacceptable. He needed to make it right, 'cause God help him, her infallible memory wouldn't forget this and he knew it.

"I know you're lookin' to teach me a lesson, but there's no need. I'm fuckin' miserable right now. Just tell me, what do I gotta do?" He'd jump through hoops like a trained circus animal to avoid where this was leading. He barely made it through the day when they were apart for fourteen hours and facing those empty feelings on permanent basis terrified him.

"I don't require reparations. Call it my acceptance or indifference, whatever makes you feel better," she sighed. "_I _should've understood that sleepovers and heavy petting don't qualify as a relationship." Jan remarked clinically, ignoring the sputters of disbelief. "Millions engage in meaningless acts of the flesh on a daily basis and I'd be a fool to believe I'm an exception. And that Third Pair routine- if the goal was to get in my pants, you would have had better luck if you had managed to utter a single compliment."

He _has_ given her compliments, hasn't he? His face went slack when he couldn't remember a time when he had, not a 'you look great today' or a single 'great job' regarding those breakfasts he enjoys so much. God, he's a dick. He didn't even tell her how beautiful she looked sprawled across his bed.

"What I told you, what I asked in the shower the other night, I meant it. It wasn't about getting in your pants," he tried to defend his actions, tried to explain that he wasn't lying, but she wasn't quite done with delivering verbal uppercuts in a calm-as-fuck, logical-as-hell manner.

_Sure it wasn't._ "I may be inexperienced at these sorts of things, but you aren't the first that tried to bed the Ripper for the sake of notoriety. You were pretty convincing, I'll give you that, but I know a losing battle when I see one. Don't you, Herveaux?"

_Herveaux?_ Now she's using his surname?! She might as well call him _wolf_ like Ludwig does!

"WE aren't a losing battle, Jannalyn. Everything you're thinkin' is wrong. How the fuck did we get here, anyway?! Why can't you let this go?"

"Letting go is easier for me than you think," she looked at the palms of her hands. "You have viable, willing options, Herveaux. I suggest you explore them." There was no bite to these words, only quiet resignation. His eyes widened when he realized she was serious, in both her suggestion and the repeat of the impersonal address.

"Options?! I don't want options! I want-"

"I'm bowing out, as gracefully as possible." She interrupted in a whisper. _Before I kill someone. Before I embarrass myself further_- she thought.

"So that's it? You're giving up on us?"

"There is no _us_. Never was."

"Jannalyn, don't-" As soon as she let herself out, the air carried a scent that shouldn't have been at the barn. "Son of a bitch!" He raced to the farmhouse following the scent in his human form, flinging mud in his wake. He crashed through the old man's front door, leaving remnants of wood pathetically hanging on its hinges. A loud argument ensued, Alcide's furious voice dominated all other sounds.

Lost in her own thoughts and oblivious to her surroundings, Jan went into the barn, barely paying attention when greeted by the others. Sam, Luna, and Emma were present this time, but she didn't notice.

God, she needed a fucking hug and she couldn't wait to see Quinn. She missed his bear hugs and easy banter, the lounging sessions in his favorite tree, the comfortable silences, the lazy summer afternoons and uneventful nights, but most of all, she missed the peace. After acclimating to touch, there were no rules, no responsibilities, no pressure, no power struggle, no games... _no fighting_. Two solid years of no fighting. She didn't realize that the simplicity of his company and the synchronicity they shared, couldn't be duplicated anywhere else. She was right in abandoning the nest, but she was fool for leaving California.

"Stay the fuck away from the barn!" Alcide's voice sounded off in the distance.

"Who's here?" Jan wasn't pleased by their muttered answers, nor was she surprised. Albert Monroe has house guests, Ricki and another female named Danielle.

According to Melinda, they only asked the old man because they overheard training would be held in his barn. However, the older she-wolf wasn't sure if it was a ploy to gain entry into the pack or into Alcide's bed, and warned Jan accordingly. Melinda expected Jan to march to the farmhouse for round two of choking the shit out of that bitch, because that's what she'd do if someone was after Julien, but Jan said nothing, as if it wasn't her business.

Alcide strolled in, looking much calmer than how he sounded a few seconds ago. "Hey Sam, maybe you oughta go to the farmhouse with Luna for a bit." Sam complied, knowing his friend needed an extra set of eyes on the visiting females.

Alcide leaned against a wall with Emma and quietly observed as training began, occasionally staring at Jan with something akin to remorse and longing. It was pretty effective in making her feel like shit- like pond scum bacteria laden shit, so she avoided eye contact as much as possible.

She taught a new skill set- rapid shifting and switching during combat- but she was far from pleased with the results. Their movements were too slow. Predictable. Depressing. She wanted give a demonstration, a visual example of how quickly it can be done, but the Beast stayed close to the surface at the mention of Ricki in the immediate vicinity. Instead, she allowed what her heart didn't want her to do.

The group's strengths, skills, and fighting styles were systematically dissected. Their every flaw and weakness was determined and in a matter of seconds, the first set of numbers were assigned, then as the second set of numbers became more prominent in forefront of her mind, she hated herself all over again.

"Natalie, you're vicious." It was the only compliment Jan had given and many looked in her direction. "But fighting hard isn't the same as fighting smart. If you get tired in a fight, you're dead. Tracy, you block the left side of your ribs. Why?" She already knew Tracy was coddling an old injury, but she asked for the group's benefit.

Tracy hadn't noticed she was doing it. "An old injury. Smashed these ribs in a car accident." The quiet woman answered quickly.

"An irrational impulse. When bones mend, they become denser, stronger. You're protecting the wrong side. Melinda, you have to fight dirty. Surprise lefts, cheap shots, eye gouges, bites to the face...do what it takes to survive. Fuck propriety." Jan's cold stare cut over to Cody. "And you, you're holding back with Megan. Again!"

"'Cause her father will rip me a new asshole after Kenny beats the fuck outta me." Cody grumbled, unwilling to admit out loud that he didn't want to hurt her. Kenny wore a shit eating grin, proud that Cody was cautious.

"Hmm, so your excuse is self-preservation? And yours" she glanced at Kenny, "is some misguided big brother act? Do either of you think an opposing pack will take it easy on Megan?"

"Of course not, but-" Cody and Kenny simultaneously started.

"But nothing" she snapped, quieting the males. "She's young," Jan circled around Megan, loosely twining a lock of the younger she-wolf's strawberry blonde hair between her scarred fingers. "And pretty. Even on the battlefield, the fact she is unmarked will draw attention."

"So we use it to our advantage." Kenny supplied, imaging how easy it would be to pick off those who became distracted.

"Melinda?" Jan silently fumed, but waited until an equally furious Melinda stomped forward to smack him in the back of his head.

"Ow! Christ, Ma!"

"Megan will not be bait, do you understand?" Melinda screeched in a decibel she has never used before. "Oh, and you better _believe_ you'll hear from your father on this one."

Meanwhile, Cody grew nauseous at the uninvited image that came to mind, of faceless men overpowering and dragging Megan away into the shadows of the woods. _Over his dead body._ "Okay. I get it. I won't do it again."

"You're right. You won't." Jan forced out fiercely. "I've visited enough territories to know there's a shortage of females everywhere. On average, males outnumber females six to one, so the probability of kidnapping is high. Too high. Outsiders will kill you and anyone else who tries to protect Megan. And if she's captured, she'll have no choice but to submit to their whims, whatever they may be."

"That's enough!" Alcide shouted as he covered Emma's ears, thankfully, having shielded the child from hearing the grim possibilities of war. The pup didn't need anything else adding to her anxieties.

"Only a male would think so." Her voice was harsh and hoarse. "Emma is female. The sooner she understands the dangers, the better she can prepare, mentally and physically." She returned her attention to the adolescent males. "When they fight" she pointed to the women, "all wounds work against them. Do you know what that means? What happens when a male ingests a single drop of fertile female blood?" she paused, waiting until understanding fluttered across their faces. "One bite. A single accidental swallow and suddenly males can't decide if they want to rape a woman or kill her, and believe me, I've seen males do both. The order doesn't matter."

"Jannalyn," The reasons for her cautious behavior finally clicked into place and Alcide nearly lost it when he realized half of her scars were bite marks. He hadn't realized how bad it was for her; the horrors she faced in the Pits and as she traveled as a lone wolf. Without thinking, he reached.

She side stepped with a grimace. "Don't. Just...don't. These boys...I only taught throws and breaks, for a reason. " She took in a deep breath and the grimace melted away into an emotionless mask. "But these boys are inept. Cowards. I've seen it. Just the other day, they turned a blind eye to a fight among brothers, so in my opinion, they're a liability and counting on their returned protection is a death sentence. I'll teach the women, but send the boys home and keep them home for the fight. You have the numbers. You don't need them."

"None of you are dismissed." Alcide announced. "You. Outside. Now." He was angry, pissed off at the mental images lingering in his head, but the way she dismissed the boys as useless would break them for years to come.

"Let's hear it, Herveaux. Tell me how wrong I am. Time's ticking. I have a date with a tiger at sunset." Jan moved to a bale of hay near the barn door, feet propped up and lounging without a care in the world. Emma moved from the wall to join her, snuggling into her side.

Date? She was throwing it in his face! "You're goin' about this all wrong. Are ya tryna piss me off?"

"Not you specifically, but you should watch your pack. There's a method to my madness."

"Yeah? Well, fuckin' enlighten me, then!"

"Watch and enlighten yourself." She jutted her chin out towards the group.

Alcide followed Jan's line of sight, turning around completely.

Kenny moved closer to Melinda and Megan, seeking the comfort of proximity from one another. Cody, on the other hand, was distraught and undecided over where he was suppose to stand. Alcide saw how he ventured closer to Megan, but he seemed to catch himself, firmly planting his feet to stand among the young males. The fact he chose responsibility over personal comfort, proved he should be running the boys, but then Johnny Matthews caught his eye. That kid radiated calm and offered reassuring squeezes to the shoulders of the more forlorn youngsters, but his hand froze as Troy Riddle let out a growl of warning.

The red-headed's whole body was rigid with tension, as the females rallied together and declared that they'd fight to their deaths, but Alcide saw the cogs spinning in the boy's head as his eyes drifted over his pack sister and pack aunts. There was one female in particular that Troy kept staring at. At first, Alcide thought Troy was observing Megan, but no, it was Natalie Blankenship, a much older female. _The fuck?_

With tentative steps, Natalie walked over to Troy and tried to nuzzle him, but the boy flinched away before she made physical contact. Alcide recognized it right away, the telltale recoil of an abused child. _Christ, I don't know shit about my own pack_- Alcide thought as he continued to observe their interaction, briefly wondering if this was what Jannalyn wanted him to see.

The kid didn't step away from Natalie, nor did he growl out a warning like he had with Johnny, but he dodged every touch. The concern on her face seemed to irk him, like he didn't know what to do about it. He seemed ready to shout, maybe cuss her out, but instead he stalked over to Jannalyn, growling the whole way. Jan shifted Emma so the pup was behind her.

"But she's marked."

"It doesn't matter, kid. If they find it bothersome, a mark can be cut away."

The mousy kid fractured into something more feral before their eyes, letting out a snarl that no one expected. "Then teach me."

"Why should I?" Jan challenged, oozing boredom with every word. He stared hard at a slightly bemused Jannalyn. "You better think hard, pup. I'm growing impatient. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw all you swinging dicks out of this barn. Just one."

"Because I'm not a coward."

"Not from what I've seen," she fired back calmly.

"Because I want to learn."

"Not good enough."

"Because I can't...I can't become a Blankenship if she's dead or taken!"

__About fucking time. __Jan thought with an inward smirk. She knew something was up with Natalie and Troy since the first time she paired them up for sparring. They were subtle, but Jan noticed how they refrained from really hurting each other. And when they were paired with others, Natalie flinched whenever Troy recieved a blow or was thrown too hard. Likewise, every yelp or 'oomph' from Natalie, seemed to Troy fight harder._  
><em>

Troy's outburst was news to the group. The women and adolescents simultaneously stared at Natalie in surprise, seeking confirmation. "Tom and I, we started the adoption process six months ago. Our final court date is in a month. We figured it was best to keep it to ourselves until it's official."

Jan stared at the boy for a few moments, recognizing a kindred spirit of sorts. He was a lot like Jan, in the way he didn't know how to handle affection, no matter how much he craved it. A punch to the face was easier to decipher. "So, the mouse wants to protect his mother?"

Troy let out a shaky breath. "No. My mother is dead to me," his head turned to look Natalie in the face, "but I wanna protect her."

"With your life?" Jan asked and the boy hesitated. "Is she worth dying for?"

"Yes." And he sounded like he meant it.

"Shit, sugar." Natalie wiped an errant tear from her face. "I love you, too."

The kid couldn't decide if he should frown, blush, or grimace, so he nodded uncomfortably. His awkward discomfort reminded Alcide of Jannalyn's reactions to kindness.

"Congratulations. I think your nuts just dropped. Now, let's see if your brothers are on board."

* * *

><p><em>Merlottes<em>

It was 6 p.m. and Quinn hadn't shown up yet, so Jan tried to track him, but came up short. He left no clues and no claw marks in the trees. Nothing.

So she hid at the top of a tree for a while, just doing breathing exercises, as cowardly as it seemed. It was the only place no wolves would follow. Reluctantly, she came out of the woods to join the living once more. She sat across from Alcide and Bert in a booth trying to maintain her composure, while ignoring Alcide and the curious glances of too many human patrons.

Sam claimed to have contacts at his disposal and he offered to find Quinn and deliver the message to meet with Jan and Alcide at Merlotte's. Julien was in charge of spreading the word of an edict for all pack members to appear. Abby, Luna, and Emma went next door to Sam's trailer to chit-chat, while Cody and Kenny kept watch outside.

"Ya wanna tell me what you're plannin' now? And why Bert needed to be here?"

"I have _no_ plan, but you could use Quinn's expertise in implementing one," she said, causing Alcide to huff in annoyance at the mention of Quinn. "As for Bert, the fact a creature infiltrated territory lines is notable history, wouldn't you say?"

Alcide slammed down the bottle of beer in his hand, the amber liquid oozing out in a stream of messy bubbles. He leaned forward, easily hulking over the table, nostrils flaring, sniffing wildly in her direction. He didn't know how he missed it, but she no longer smelled of him. The long exposure to rain during the search for Emma and the shower afterwards washed away all proof of their near coupling, which meant it was open season for other interested parties.

A handful of wolves had arrived and his wolf didn't see the unmarked males as pack, but as competition. He let out a low continuous growl as they passed, a warning to keep their distance.

"Will you calm down? I was just pointing out its ability to elude, a fact future generations should know." She defended herself, misunderstanding the reason for his growls.

_So clueless_- he thought, hovering just a few inches from her face. As more wolves entered the building, a very male imperative demanded that he rip her clothes off, clear the table with a dramatic sweep, plant her ass on the edge, and shove himself in, balls deep in front of everyone, all to make a single message clear. Mine. There would be no speedy race to the finish line. He'd fuck her hard and slow, raising her knees to go deep. The noises he'd extract from her, the soft raspy mewls of pleasure as his thumb made slow circles on her-

"What are you doing?" she asked, jerking her head back to avoid his lips.

"Tryna finish what we started last night," he smirked. "I don't give a shit what you say or what you choose to believe. I'm not givin' up on ya, ya understand?"

Jan frowned at him, visibly upset. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but she gave no response. She had no negating retort, no smart ass comeback, and fucking hell, she couldn't formulate an insult. _You're pathetic_, _Jan._ _You're making a fool of yourself, again_- she scolded herself, quickly looking away.

"On that note, mind tellin' us about this keitre?" Bert asked, hoping to change the subject for both their sakes. The old bachelor knew Alcide couldn't leave her be and the poor girl looked so stressed out that he feared she would go still and silent again. He pulled out a small notepad from the front pocket of his shirt and pointedly stared at Jan, motioning with his pen for her to begin.

"I've only ever seen one, in the Pits. A hairless creature with grey skin and visible black veins. Around seven feet tall with a short trunk and abnormally long limbs. It has a flat face, two holes for nostrils but no nose, no ears just ear canals. Several rows of shark-like mangled teeth, thin-to-no lips. Long fingers and black nails, as sharp as scalpels." She spoke in monotone, staring out at nothing, and then her head inclined towards Bert. "I could draw it for you, for your records."

A frown formed on Alcide's face. In order for her to give such a vivid description, let alone draw it, she had to see it up close. "Did you fight one of those things?"

_Those things. _Technically, Jan has fought a small variety of similar creatures from the same realm, or more specifically, lower demons, but the information wasn't pertinent to the current situation.

"No, never a keitre. The master of the Pits kept the creature for the sole purpose of disposal."

"Say again?" Bert asked with a gulp, a nervous sweat forming around his collar at what he thought he heard.

"Disposal. Of what was left of the bodies."

* * *

><p>Ten minutes after pulling out of Merlotte's parking lot, Sam noticed a large, black, expensive SUV coming down the road in the opposite direction. In a big city, a tinted out SUV wouldn't have raised any eyebrows, but in Bon Temps, where everyone knew each other and knew each other's rides, it drew his attention.<p>

The vehicle slowed and turned onto a narrow two-lane road leading to the Tall Pines Cemetery and Compton Mansion. Again, activity that normally wouldn't attract attention, but it made a left turn onto the gravel road leading to Sookie's house. Sam followed, and sure enough, the vehicle parked next to the faerie's car.

"You've got to be shitting me." Quinn whispered in disbelief as he read the silver decal against oxidized yellow paint, stating the model of the car.

Sam heard a deep chuckle, then a bald headed man exited the vehicle, donning a blue dress shirt and black slacks. Sam wasn't fashion forward, but he knew expensive business attire when he saw it. He suspected the entire ensemble consisted of purple labeled designer brands and was specifically tailored to the man's large frame.

"Quinn?" he questioned, rolling down his window.

"Hey, Sam." Quinn greeted cordially, looking over his shoulder. "Can you believe this shit?" he laughed, pointing at Sookie's yellow car. Sam didn't understand and his facial expression betrayed him. "For someone who grew up human, she sure has a lot of their tendencies."

"What? Owning a beat up yellow clunker?"

"Ownership of a gremlin. I suppose she purchased the human equivalent. And before you ask, yes, gremlins exist." Quinn replied as he opened the passenger door of the SUV to gather up a large book and a suitcase. "You visiting, too?" Quinn asked.

"Actually, I came lookin' for you."

* * *

><p>"Why'd Sam take off?" Sookie asked, as she greeted Quinn at the door.<p>

"Well, hello to you, too." Meaty luscious lips pulled back over perfect teeth, set in a dimpled grin. "I told him you'd be late tonight and he didn't seem too concerned." He stepped inside after Sookie gestured with her arms, granting permission for him to enter. She led him into sitting room, the most formal room in the house.

"You didn't tell him I'm meeting with a vampire judge, jury, and executioner, did you? Cause I really don't need a lecture later."

"I told him the truth, like I said, he didn't seem concerned. You're changing, right?" Quinn waved a giant hand down at her attire; denim cut-off shorts and a faded green Bon Temps High t-shirt.

"Dusting took longer than expected. I'll shower and change in a minute. Care for dinner or something to drink?" she motioned for Quinn to have a seat.

"I'm good, thank you. The Magister will be here shortly, at sundown, so go. Get ready."

"Okay. If you change your mind, help yourself. There's lasagna warming in the oven, refreshments in the fridge, and a stocked mini-bar in the dining room." Sookie shrugged and went upstairs, thinking about how Quinn looked in business attire. It was a drastic but nice change from jeans and muscle shirts, which he rocked like nobody's business, but _man oh man_ did he look good.

As soon as Quinn heard the shower running, he dialed Lamar. Due to the time zone difference, the call went straight to voicemail.

"It's me. Listen, there's something I didn't tell you. A month ago, Ludwig came to me with concerns in regards to Jan's mental stability. That's why I'm here, but now there are other complications. Isabel Beaumont is breaking the news of Godric's true death tonight. As for the other complication, I'll need your help in removing her from it."

* * *

><p>Sam strolled into the bar and went straight to Jannalyn. "I found him, but he can't make it until an hour after sunset."<p>

"Oh?" Jan was impressed at the speed in which Sam found his intended target, but Alcide wasn't. "Why not?"

"He said you'd understand. Somethin' 'bout a meeting he can't miss, with some Magister and a Sheriff. He said he'd swing this way afterwards."

"Shit," she hissed. _Please, don't meet Godric.  
><em>

Sam ignored the way her face paled as he reached into his jean pocket. He placed the items on the table in front of Jan. "He said to give you these."

Alcide ignored the sleek black cellphone but snatched the two pieces of plastic off the table to look them over. One was her driver's license issued by the state of California and the other was a black credit card issued to John Quinn. _That motherfucker! He knew I'd be here to see this_. "He lets you spend his money?"

"What difference does it make?" Jan shrugged, not seeing what the big deal was as she scrolled through the short contact list in the cellphone. Amy would be Dr. Ludwig. BBH was short for Big Bear Hugs, so she knew who that was. The list went on; Francine, Lamar? _Who the fuck is Lamar?_ Bert tried to peek, so she pocketed the cellphone. She held out her hand, palm up. When Alcide handed over the cards, she gave them back to Sam. "Hold onto those for me. I'm opening up a tab."

"Alright. Whadaya need?"

"Your largest steak. Rare. Cooked long enough to take the chill off, no sides... and whatever these gentlemen are having."

Alcide and Bert exchanged a displeased look, catching the meaning behind her order. Her desire to eat raw meat meant she was gorging her wolf and using Quinn's money stated her affiliation. It was a declaration of the side she has chosen. Frowning, both men declined to order on her tab.

"Nothing? Alright, I'm adding to my order. Bring me a couple of shot glasses, lime slices, and bottle of tequila."

"Sure that's a good idea?" Sam asked. He guessed she'd be falling down drunk after a few shots of Patron and honestly, he needed her sober. Another set of hands to separate Alcide and Quinn would be useful if the males ended up fighting in his parking lot.

"I'll pace myself." If Sam didn't bring her a drink, she was prepared to start kicking and screaming. She wanted to call Quinn but interrupting a meeting with a Magister could negatively sway the outcome of whatever legal matter he's working on, so a few stiff drinks seemed the best alternative.

"Alright, but the minute ya turn out in here, I'm puttin' ya out. Can't have ya tearin' up the place. That goes for any and all of ya." Sam said in a low voice, addressing the entire table. After this morning and the conversation he overheard, he knew it was an empty threat when it came to Jan. There was no puttin' her out, even with Alcide's help, but he had to establish unquestioned authority on his turf.

"I understand, Merlotte." Jan spoke for herself, while Alcide nodded, agreeing to watch his own. All three men didn't miss the invisible line she drew. She used another impersonal address, separating herself further from everyone.

Sam knew he'd regret giving her the okay to drink, but he dropped off the meal order with Lafayette, who was swaying hips to a song on the kitchen radio. With one look at the illegible chicken-scratch on the order slip, Lafayette dropped his apron to get clarification from Sam, who was talking to Holly at the bar.

"I need ya on your A-game tonight. We're gonna be busy." Sam said, after noticing the smell of new wolves in the building. "At booth number five, give the lady a bottle of Patron silver at cost."

Holly glanced over at the booth and the woman's head popped up to stare back. The woman stood and walked over to the bar, perusing the top shelf liquors, as Sam slipped the cards into Holly's hand to place under the currency till in the cash register.

"Unacceptable, on two counts. First, I'll take a bottle of Don Julio. Second, you have Luna, Emma, and cub on the way to pay for, so charge full prices." Jan demanded in earnest. Sam quickly eyed his surroundings. Holly and Lafayette heard the supernatural slip up and so did a few wolves. "Relax. We've already established the exposure rule doesn't apply among other supes."

"Is this you? A twenty ounce T-bone, extra, extra rare?" Lafayette asked, as he examined the order slip with a dramatic squint. When he looked up, he immediately gulped under Jan's scrutiny and fought the urge to move back when she stepped forward with a sniff.

"Yes," she said quietly, while keeping eye contact. "You're different." He smelled of magic like Holly, but Jan sensed something _other_ about the man, something much more different than overdone make-up, flamboyant attire, and notably feminine mannerisms.

"I sho is, girlfriend." A perfectly groomed eyebrow shot up as he eyed Sam, silently questioning if this chick had a problem with gays like half of the dumbass rednecks that frequent the joint.

"Miss Jannalyn Bannister." She held her hand out, palm down as if waiting for a kiss to a knuckle. Maroon stained lips quirked in amusement, because _that_ was a diva-move if he ever saw one- shit only _real_ ladies do upon introduction. She even used the title of Miss, exactly as they do in the old black and white films he absolutely adores.

"Lafayette Reynolds." He said, clasping her hand with both of his, while fluttering faux lashes. "But call me Lala. Short-order cook extraordinaire, mystic diva and medium-"

"I know what you are." Jan interrupted. She pulled him forward to whisper low enough so only he could hear. "Daemon."

Lafayette felt the other presence in his body acknowledging that single word; the frilly gills around the daemon's neck flapped and rattled wildly as it silently screeched in joy. Then the bastard started talking inside his head, in language Lafayette couldn't understand.

"'Scuse me?" Lafayette asked the voice, but Jan thought he was talking to her.

"Don't deny it. I think he likes me."

When Lafayette looked down at their joined hands, his thumbs were tracing, almost reverently petting the scars that covered her hand and wrist. The way he stroked her skin was borderline molestation, so like any mortified gay man he dropped her hand like a hot potato.

"Oh damn. Scuse me." Lafayette backed away, unbearably uncomfortable. "S'pose I oughta get ta cookin'."

Jan understood his dilemma, so she gave him a small smile, turned, and extended the same hand to Holly to keep up pretenses. "Nice to meet you as well, Holly."

The Packmaster and historian were watching the exchange between Jan and Lafayette. "Did you see that shit?" Alcide murmured to Bert.

"Son, that man is queerer than a bedazzled two dollar bill. I doubt you got shit to worry about there. Control yourself, Alcide." Bert motioned towards Alcide's glowing eyes.

"You're the Jan big and handsome is looking for!" Holly squealed, drawing Alcide's attention once more. Bert, being the nosiest person alive, quieted down as well.

"Big... and handsome?" Jan asked.

"John Quinn," Holly raised the black credit card with his name embossed on it. "The man doesn't shut up about you." Holly gushed in a teasing lilt.

"He doesn't?" Jan grew concerned. What has he told this witch? How much did she know?

"Oh no, hun. He doesn't tell me anything specifically, just that he misses you." Holly gave a knowing smile and abruptly changed topics. "Gimme a minute to get those limes sliced and I'll bring that bottle out to you."

After Jan reluctantly went back to the booth, Holly pulled Quinn's business card from the bottom of a large balloon glass behind the counter, the bartender's designated tip jar. She sent him a text message on her Blackberry.

_Hi! It's Holly. She's FINALLY here! BUT, she's got some hottie and an old man sitting with her. Competition?_

In the past year, Holly has learned to identify most supes. Shortly after Lafayette raised Marnie's bird from the dead at the Moon Goddess Emporium, she learned Sam can shift into just about anything, Sookie is a faerie hybrid, and recently, Tara is a newly _made_ vampire. They've proven themselves as friends, so it didn't bother her to learn Quinn is also two-natured. The purple eyes and sniffing kinda gave him away anyway.

Although he voiced not having many interactions with witches, he's polite and likes to laugh, unlike half of Merlotte's patrons who claim to be human. As a matter of fact, the weretiger did her a huge favor the other night.

During some downtime, she and Quinn were laughing about something random -the humidity and the number it did on her hair if she recalled correctly- but Andy noticed and decided to be a dick about it. He went outside and ran a check on Quinn's motorcycle plates. When he didn't find anything, he came in and sat at the bar, eyeballing the larger man like a criminal. Andy made an offhanded comment about the attention Holly showed her customers; spouting off some non-sense about giving men the wrong idea, like every man in the parish didn't know they were together. Pfft! Quinn overheard their mini-argument and for reasons Holly didn't understand, the weretiger decided to give an Oscar winning performance.

Holly went along with the blush-inducing, yet meaningless flirtations because Andy needed to be taught a lesson. He never made plans with her and she was tired of initiating and planning everything from dates to quality alone time. All spontaneity had left their relationship, leaving it in a stagnant plateau. More often than not, she contemplated calling it quits and Andy kept making the decision easier and easier.

Turns out, Quinn was right. A little 'perceived competition' makes a man eager to keep a valued relationship and jealousy can turn any man into an animal in the bedroom, even Andy Bellefleur. Appropriately, Holly thanked Goddess for the intervention, but she's a pay-it-back-then-forward kind of gal. It keeps the karma tally pretty clean and in the black.

As she halved a lime, her cellphone chimed with a reply text.

_Competition? Doubtful, but the old man might give me a run for my money. ___ *falls over laughing* _What is she doing right now?_

_About to eat and get liquored up. _

_Let me guess, Don Julio? If you have Rose's Lime, she'll appreciate it. Make sure she eats something filling? Please?  
><em>

_She already ordered. Steak is cooking as we speak (text). What time will you be in?_

_I planned to come in around 8. BTW, take care of her, will you?  
><em>

_Sure, hun. I got her. Gotta get ready for the pm crowd. See ya soon._

* * *

><p><em>Back at the Stackhouse property <em>

Quinn sat in an armchair, grinning as he sent texts left and right on his smart phone. Sookie was supposed to be reading about faeries from the large book in her lap, but her eyeballs had plans of their own. Sheesh. He was such a gargantuan man that he made the furniture in the room seem dainty in comparison. Her eyes swept over his huge muscular body hidden beneath yards of cloth. Briefly, she wondered if he was extra large everywhere else.

He growled. "Eyes in the book, faerie."

Her face burned hot at being caught. "Sorry." She really wasn't, but it was the polite thing to say.

A knock sounded off at the door. The vamp didn't need an invitation to enter, but as a courtesy to the complainant, he waited. Sookie answered the door with Quinn standing next to her.

"Good evening, Magister Atanas Stojan." Quinn greeted, "This is Miss Sookie Stackhouse. Please enter."

The vamp looked bored, unimpressed as he eyed Sookie and her humble domicile. "Does she understand what I must do?"

"She understands she must drink so you can determine if she's telling the truth." Quinn answered, inclining his head respectfully.

Sookie gulped in nervousness. She didn't want another vamp in her bloodstream monitoring her emotions. Briefly, she wondered if Eric and Bill would feel the new vamp's blood in the bond, but ultimately decided she didn't give a damn.

"You shall not drink mouthfuls, but a single drop."

* * *

><p>Terry arrived for kitchen duty, so Lafayette personally delivered the steak to booth five, sauntering the whole way. That bastard demon hasn't shut up since meeting that chick and Lala planned to get to the bottom of it. He approached the table, feeling unsure and nervous, but there was no way he'd ever show it. Miss Jannalyn Bannister gave him a warm welcoming smile, the big mufucka glared, and the old man just looked constipated...downright uncomfortable with the presence of a fabulous flamboyantly gay specimen.<p>

"It smells delicious. Thank you." She poured herself a couple of shots, dripped in a few drops of Rose's lime juice, then threw them back, one after another, swallowing it down without making a face. "I suppose you need to ask me a few things," she said, slicing into the steak and taking a bloody bite.

Lafayette was grossed out by the streak of blood that dribbled out of the corner of her mouth, but that sick fuck inside of him couldn't stop watching as she lifted bloody bite after bloody bite to her lips. Lafayette wanted to excuse himself, but the other presence kept his body still and physical mouth shut, unwilling to interrupt her meal. She didn't fuck around with her food. A twenty ounce T-bone was gone in three minutes.

"Gentlemen, will you give us a minute?" Jan asked the table, all polite and lady-like, as she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

"Fuck no." The big mufucka growled out, posturing like the gayness isn't obvious. He was getting on Lala's last nerve.

She sighed, then she turned to Lafayette. "Let's sit at the bar." The big mufucka growled again and Lafayette don't play that intimidation shit. He gave the bigger man a dirty look and gestured for Jan to lead the way.

They sat side by side in the stools, shoulder to shoulder, the bottle of tequila between them. Holly noticed that she didn't bring the shot glasses, so she brought over a couple. Graciously, the bartender made herself scarce, going about her business so they could talk. Jan slid a shot glass over to him and poured.

"What do you know 'bout this thang, this demon inside of me?"

"Drink first." She waited until he took the shot, then immediately poured another to replenish it. "Don't insult him by falsely categorizing his species. It's daemon with an 'A', a higher being among lower demons."

Alcide and Bert shared a look back at the booth. It was Bert who asked, "There's a difference?"

Jan heard the question over the murmurs of the dinner crowd and answered. "The difference is similar to the vast leap between weres and natural wolves." Her attention returned to Lafayette. "He seems to be at peace with you."

"I don't know 'bout peace. Sho don't feel like it sometimes." Lafayette specifically recalled the time it took over long enough to pour a gallon of bleach into a pot of gumbo. Oh and he Googled what bleach could do to a person's stomach lining and intestines. Had anyone eaten that gumbo, let's just say Lala would have to make orange work for the rest of his life.

"He's trapped, but I can tell you don't use him for personal gain. I respect that. Not all slaves are that lucky."

Another round was poured as Lafayette contemplated her words. It sickened him to think that he- a black gay man in the bigoted south- had a slave.

"Can I free him? 'Cause ole Lala ain't nobody massa."

"Unless you have his physical body laying around here somewhere, freeing him would kill him. You could make him jump into another living body, but I think he knows he'd be used. By allowing him to stay, you're doing him and the world a favor." She tried to pour him another, but he put his hand over the shot glass. She shrugged and downed hers. "Tell me something? Does he know me?"

"I don't know, but he been sayin' shit to me, non-stop since we met. He ain't never talked this much. He be sayin' somethin' in another language, I think."

"Can you repeat it?"

"Oh lawd, now he done lost his mufuckin' mind. Slow down," Lafayette told the babbling voice in head, going sixty miles per hour. "He say- Ludubĝara ugu Lamhu. Sagaz namtil. Luniĝazig ziĝal-uš."

Jan closed her eyes in disappointment. "Great." She downed a few shots, back to back. "He knows who I am."

"Well? What it mean? Because he tryna do back flips in my brain."

"Accolades. The kind a ringside announcer makes before a fight," _or the one they welcome you with right before you meet the Big Evil_- she thought with a grimace. "Can I ask _him_ something?" Jan asked for permission and made a distinction Lafayette appreciated. At least _someone_ knew his body was hijacked by another passenger and treated them as individuals.

"Go on, girlfriend. He listenin' and doin' some weird gill clickin' thang. All content and shit."

"Uru šid tuku irigal?" She spoke with a perfect accent in the daemon's language, shocking all who heard.

Lafayette felt the daemon reeling inside, then it did something strange. It drew energy and information from somewhere dark, somewhere Lafayette's mind couldn't reach nor comprehend.

"He say 'I'iz giri, ibsi gu zig zae anta' and don't ask him no mo' questions. I don't like where the answers be comin' from."

* * *

><p>AN: So, the plot thickens. Up next, the reunions with Quinn and Isabel, other unexpected visitors, and Fangtasia revisited. In this chapter, the Magister's name, Atanas Stojan roughly translates as "to stand immortal". In this story, he's the big cahuna, the oldest on this side of the globe.

_Ludubĝara ugu Lamhu. Sagaz namtil. Luniĝazig ziĝal-uš._ Hunter born of the Pits. Robber of life. Murderer of the living-dead.

_Uru šid tuku irigal?_ How many slots have I earned in the underworld?

_I__'iz giri, ibsi gu zig zae anta_. Numerous seats, enough to call you comrade.

Hit the button!


	21. Reunion

A/N: Hello! Thanks to all who reviewed, followed, and subscribed. Here's the new chapter, roughly 5k words. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Twenty One: Reunion  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Stojan dropped a single drop of blood on Sookie's tongue and then he zoomed through her house like a bee on speed. Notes were jotted and a tons of questions were thrown at her, which she answered as quickly and as honestly as possible. After forty-five minutes of non-stop zipping and questioning on every aspect of her history with Bill and Eric, he sat at the formal dining table with two scrolls of parchment and began writing in perfect calligraphy.<p>

Stojan's face was a mask of god-like beauty, an alabaster statue of perfection. He had the darkest eyes she'd ever seen and shoulder length black hair pulled into a low ponytail. She'd bet her last dollar it was tied with leather strings.

"What do you ask for in reparations?"

Sookie had no idea what to ask for, so she looked to Quinn for some help. He answered for her.

"This property is her ancestral home. She asks for the full transfer of the deed from Northman's holding company. As for the King of Louisiana, she asks for restitution in the amount of one million dollars. Due to the location of the Compton ancestral home, she asks for a desist order for the remainder of her natural life."

The Magister laughed a deep hearty chuckle. "I feel your client's indecision and disgust." He turned bloodshot obsidian eyes towards Sookie. "What you ask is...less than what I'd ask, but fair."

"What would you ask for?" Sookie knew she'd broken a protocol of some sort, when a flash of anger distorted his face for just a nanosecond.

"You are right, Sir Quinn. She is truly oblivious, too human." His predatory gaze never left her as he spoke. "Let us consider the facts, Miss Stackhouse. You were a procurement assignment, ordered by the former Queen Sophie-Anne Leclerq in which Compton was employed. Under false pretenses, Compton has had the privilege of blood and body for a period of two years and has bonded with you without explanation of what the deed entails. During the period in complaint, you have rescued Compton on numerous occasions; from an orchestrated attack from drainers -which could have gone horribly wrong-, delivered true death to his Maker upon discovery that Compton had been tortured by her hand, and from a pack of wolves under Russell Edgington and the deranged vampire himself. Furthermore, you saved the Kingdom of Louisiana -whose constituents include Compton's only childe, Miss Jessica Hamby- from a sorceress with the power to make our kind walk into the sun. Is this correct?"

"Yes." The pen moved on the parchment and before Sookie's eyes could properly register the movement, half of the paper was covered in words.

"So technically, William Compton," Stojan hissed out, as if his mouth had been soiled by speaking the name, "owes you his undead life and that of his progeny. Furthermore, by default, he has assumed the criminal debts of his royal predecessor and currently owes for the undead-lives of his entire Kingdom. Miss Stackhouse, the Kingdom and its ruler owe you more than one million American dollars."

"But everything I've ever done was out of love. For him. Eric. My friends."

Stojan studied her for a moment at feeling the pain coursing through her body and the lingering traces of love for such a detestable representation of their kind. How did Compton acquire the love of a woman he didn't deserve?

"I have no doubt you...care deeply. I feel it. The sum of your actions have proved it, time and time again, yet he shows no gratitude nor has he attempted to repay the debt. What is the true value of superficial affection, a meaningless engagement, and a single Valentino dress in the grand scheme of things?"

Stated so plainly, she understood the flash of anger she had seen on the Magister's face. He was angry _for_ her and was demanding that she stand up for herself just as she did for Bill and his Kingdom in the face of danger.

"Can I ask you somethin'?" It had been bugging her for a few minutes now. "Why are you even entertainin' this complaint? I mean, he's a vampire King and I'm just...me."

"You mean, why am I siding with a faerie hybrid instead of with my own kind?" Sharp translucent nails clicked together as his hands tented above the papers. "Bonding is a sacred act of the blood. For the bonder, it is a vow to protect and care for the well-being of another as one would a childe. For the _bondee_, it shows commitment and a desire of being _made_ a vampire. From what I've ascertained, you've held up more than your share of the bargain. However, Compton knew your status as a faerie hybrid and it is common knowledge that the turning of other supernaturals is unlawful, no matter the purity or dilution."

"You're tellin' me, every time he suggested eternity, it was a lie?"

"It was. The Authority must approve such a turning, due to some undesirable results in the past. I've scoured our records and there are no such petitions bearing your name. The deception deepens, Miss Stackhouse. Progenitor, progeny, bonded, pledged, eternal companions, and nest mates; those are the only recognized relationships in our world. The terms associated with human matrimony, such as husband and wife, currently holds no position or legal standing within our laws, therefore the terms means absolutely nothing and his proposal was another deliberate farce."

Sookie felt like she'd been staked. Hot angry tears burned in her eyes but she quickly blinked them away. "Scratch a million. I want...I _demand_ five million dollars and the desist order extended to everyone in my family, including any children I may have in the future."

Stojan nodded in approval while he scratched more words onto parchment and Quinn nearly whooped a fist pump. She wasn't thinking or behaving like a naive woman-child. As a matter of fact, he could see the change in her body language. She was out for blood, as much blood as she spilled for Compton out of her own veins.

"I won't lie to you, Miss Stackhouse. When your advocate notified me of the complaint, I was prepared to deny any proceedings outright, but Sir Quinn made a legitimate point. Compton is the guilty party at failing to even the balance of the bond, so I've bestowed vampiric rights and citizenship as if you _were_ turned, since the next step cannot be performed according to law. However, this allowance disappears once the bond is permanently severed, so until then, you _are_ one of us. This decision is incontestable." He stared at Sookie, waiting for acknowledgement that she understood the rights were temporary. She nodded and whispered a thank you. "Do you know if Ludwig will try a rapid break?"

"Yes," Quinn answered. "She has determined that Miss Stackhouse will survive it."

"When?" Stojan didn't want to feel her emotions anymore. They were too turbulent, too fresh, too raw.

"As soon as she receives your approval." Quinn answered, barely containing a smile.

"Good. I'll send word at the conclusion of these proceedings. Now, let us move to the second half. What do you ask of Northman?" Stojan had an amused glint in his predatory eyes. "Or shall I advise you of my opinion on that relationship, as well?"

* * *

><p>Lafayette was more than a little tipsy, but the mirth he felt wasn't due to the alcohol. He'd never been able to voice the burden of sharing the same space with another passenger and with Miss Bannister, he didn't have to explain. The ability to freely speak about it, without fear of persecution or admittance into a mental hospital, felt like a weight that threatened to flatten him was lifted. She seemed to understand what was going on better than he did and somehow, the fact she treated him with respect eased his worries about a daemon inhabiting his body.<p>

Imagine that. Lafayette Reynolds feeling good about his circumstances. He felt at peace -where all felt zen and right in the world- the kind of peace he chases on the back end of a few prescription pills and primo cush wrapped in mango-flavored blunt shells. He hadn't felt this light, this right, since the time he was high on Eric Northman.

"You awful knowledgeable about all dis. You got one, too?"

"No." She answered and Alcide- who had been listening and wondering the same- was relieved. "What I have is something different. The knowledge stems from having a Firebreather as a neighbor." In the next cell over was more like it, but she didn't want to dampen Lafayette's cheerful mood with dreary details of her past.

"Git the fuck out. You know someone like me?"

"Not quite," she corrected after downing a mouthful of agave gold. "His name was Alazar. Unlike you, he had a physical body. Blue speckled skin, white facial plates and tusks. Spikes everywhere. I -well-_ we_ were pariahs due to our appearances and reputations, so we were housed in the same wing. You see, I had no voice," she gestured at her neck, "and he had no one else in which to converse. As the years passed, the chatter began to make sense." She poured the last shot and motioned to Holly for another bottle.

Lafayette noticed several men staring at her, watching her every move, and little did he know, they were listening to every word. He looked at Holly like she'd lost her marbles after she delivered a fresh bottle.

"What? She's holdin' her liquor better than anyone I've ever seen." Holly huffed out a quick laugh. "Better than you, too."

"You a real bitch, Holly. Puttin'_ my_ bidness, my love for the _drank_, out on front."

"You're a real bitch, too, Lala." Holly sang back, laughing as she filled an order for a waitress.

"Ummhmm, you know it. Best not forget it." He retorted with a dramatic smack of his lips, while flipping back imaginary hair.

Jan sat back and watched their playful banter, curious about their dynamics. "Close friends?"

"Lala don't get close, but she good peoples. Won't do nobody wrong, even when she mad as hell. Says that's bad juju and it comes back tenfold or some shit." Lafayette leaned on an elbow, resting his cheek on a fist. "Listen up, girlfriend. You should proly slow down. If you ain't noticed, you got too many hungry lookin' menz starin' like they tryna eat a bitch."

The smile left her face when she heard several low growls.

"A little staring doesn't mean they'll approach."

Jan and the rest of the wolves heard Alcide growl out a 'damn right they won't.' He'd had enough of outside forces sabotaging his precarious relationship with Jan, so his words were clear and his threat was real. If any of his own set her off, they'd face his wrath. The object of his affections turned in her stool to stare at him from across the room, surprised that he backed her up after she 'bowed out'. He stared back, softening his expression to show he still wanted in, but she gave an awkward nod and looked away.

* * *

><p>"Tell Miss Bannister,<em> cinnamon rolls<em> lives on." Stojan floated up off the ground and because he felt the need to show off, he created a sonic boom as he took flight.

"Cinnamon rolls lives on?" Sookie asked, confused as hell. "Is that some kind of weird vampire humor?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know." Quinn shivered. Truth be told, the attention Jan gets from ancients scares the shit out him. Vampires aged at two thousand plus are Old Ones to her, a term she coined at the World Royal Summit in Moscow, a little over four years ago.

___The blood red evening gown she wore matched his silk ceremonial garb and it fit like a glove, showcasing a lot of skin and scars, leaving no doubt to her identity. __Her hair was pinned away from her face, cascading down her bare back in soft curls. A row of diamonds hung around her neck, a luxurious loan from the King of California. Of course, she complained that it felt like a collar at first, but after seeing how it complimented the dress, she stopped yapping. S___he really was drop-dead gorgeous that night and Quinn was proud to have her on his arm. __

_It was common knowledge that Jan once resided with Godric as a nest mate, so Quinn wasn't surprised to hear the hushed whispers of inquiry concerning her identity and the many gasps of recognition as they danced together. She ignored the way the name 'Ripper' echoed around the room and Quinn tried his best to do the same, but all too soon, what he thought was curiosity became something else entirely._

_As the minutes ticked by, the closer a few vampires seem to appear, gaining feet of proximity with every twirl on the dance floor. In alarm, Quinn quickly whisked Jan away to an abandoned balcony, where she was the first to speak._

_"The Old Ones...perhaps we should leave," she suggested, which was promptly met with uproar in the ballroom. "John, are they listening?" He rubbed her scarred shoulders trying to get her to relax while mixing scents once more.  
><em>

_"I think so, but we have to wait for California to arrive. If you're still uncomfortable afterwards, we'll leave." He hoped the eavesdropping vamps would catch a clue and back off; which most did for a time, but they were too interested to stay away. Over the next hour, one by one they drew in for introductions. All he could do was observe and hope she didn't end up fighting._

_Christof, the King of Belgium, was the first to ask for a dance and offered his date in exchange. True to her unconventional upbringing, Jan showed no fear by maintaining eye contact, as she gave a small curtsy. Christof bowed deeply, the first to break eye contact to show he meant no harm. The two pairs switched partners and proceeded to grace the floor with their moves._

_It was a mistake. It was also when Quinn and the entire vampire world discovered Jan has a valuable gift._

_"Your date, she is your childe, isn't she?" Jan asked Christof as he twirled her._

_"Viviana is the youngest of two. Is it that obvious she is mine?" Christof wore an amused yet smug smile, as the two moved effortlessly in steps and turns._

_"Of course. Viviana smells like you." The dance floor stilled for a moment, but quickly resumed._

_"Miss Bannister, I don't mean to offend, but..." Christof seemed to ponder a minute as the dance continued. "I was under the impression that all vampires smell the same to all wolves."_

_"I can't speak for the others of my kind but there is a distinct difference to me." She rasped. Most of the vamps were listening now, barely managing to keep up the charade of enjoying the ball._

_"How so? Give me an example. What separates my scent from the others?" Christof asked, blinking in tolerant amusement._

_"You and your childe smell like sugar beets."_

_Christof steps faltered. It wasn't common knowledge that he was once a slave on a sugar beet farm in his mortal life and he wondered if his mortal diet contributed to the distinct aroma she claimed to identify. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "You must explain, so I may better understand."_

_"Sulfur and blood is present, the odor of all vampire, but the aroma in the blood is where I find the similarities and differences. Hmm, how to describe it...Imagine the crisp scent of a fresh apple and then imagine the sweeter aromatic notes of a baked apple pie. Viviana would be the fruit, and you would be the pie. Please, forgive the references. I have no other way to explain." Jan grimaced, hoping she didn't offend him._

_Christof's hazel eyes studied Jan's face, looking, searching for a hidden meaning. Understanding fluttered across his face. "Ahh, I smell like roasted sugar beets? The cooked version?"_

_"Yes, but you also smell spicy, like all Old Ones."_

_"Old Ones?" Christof's features hardened into a severe uncomfortable look._

_Her face was pure innocence and she answered with no hesitation. "Yes."_

_"Do you mean to offend me?" His fangs settled into place with a snick.  
><em>

_"I do not." Her voice maintained a calm tone and in nanoseconds her eyes glowed like a blanket of lit snow._

_"If you don't mean to insult me, then why are you angry?" he hissed._

_Fuck it to hell and back, she was too far away to grab. Quinn moved closer and called out her name, to which she held up an open palm in his direction._

_"I'm not angry. The blaze is an involuntary reaction to dropped fangs. Calm yourself so I can explain." She wasn't asking, she was telling him to calm the fuck down in the most respectful way possible._

_"Then do so and quickly, Ripper." Christof whispered as his hazel eyes grew dark and his fangs elongated just a few millimeters more._

_Jannalyn frowned at the pissy vampire and took a deep breath. She knew vampires would assume she was a danger, but at least he's giving her a chance to speak her piece...a much better alternative to being thrown across the room in her dress._

_"My kind uses the word 'elder' in reference to age, seniority, and knowledge, but the term also implies the frailty of mortal aging, the nearing of a wolf's end. Your immortal status and our obvious difference in species makes the term 'elder' a horrible fit, so I had to come up with something to match the vampiric use of the word 'ancient' without sounding like a vampire. I fail to see how I've insulted you."_

_It wasn't an apology and it wasn't an appeasement either, just a statement showing her logic._

_Christof's childe, Viviana, stared at her Maker at feeling embarrassment flooding the bond from his end. It served him right for jumping to conclusions. "An apology is due," she hissed to her Maker causing Quinn to smirk down at her._

_Christof stilled and his fangs slowly receded. "Pardon my mistake." After the blaze of her eyes dimmed out, he continued the dance with Jan, as if nothing happened. "Which of us smell like... Old Ones to you?" Christof asked awkwardly, in lieu of a proper bloodfelt apology, which was fine by Jan. She could relate. She was horrible with apologies, too. At least he wasn't ruining her dress._

_"I've only met a few tonight; you, Amun, Deiter, Kebu, Marco De Lange, Salome. However, that man in the far corner," Jan jutted her chin out, "he is by far, the eldest in the room."_

_The dark haired vampire in question crushed the pewter goblet of warm blood in his hand, as his steely gaze cut over to Christof and Jan. Christof was quick to divert with a dip to break eye contact._

_"Hmm. So between us, I'm the one who smells like a meal?"_

_"Not a meal. Like dessert." Jan answered when Christof righted their positions._

_"Oh, dear God. You did not just say that." Quinn groaned, as Viviana giggled. "Could you cut back on the honesty tonight?"_

_"No, no, Sir Quinn. It's fine, however, it is such an odd predicament to be in." Christof smirked and too many vampires seemed amused at the irony as well. "Viviana," Christof called out in Quinn's direction, "did you hear? The Ripper has declared that I smell edible." The vamp waggled eyebrows at his childe while grinning like a Cheshire cat._

_Jannalyn blushed and looked down, but Quinn knew she didn't quite get the innuendo. If anything, she probably thought his comment was light teasing about her diet in the Pits.  
><em>

_"And what about humans?"_

_Jannalyn made a face one could associate with lemons and sour milk. "The blood is too polluted with preservatives and chemicals that I have difficulty differentiating."_

_"And your kind?"_

_"I have adverse reactions to the elevated temperature of my kind. Usually, I find I'm too distracted with malicious intent for scent to register, but Quinn is helping to reverse my condition."_

_Her honesty was startling. It was another clean statement of facts; simply said with no hesitation or mincing of words. Here she was, the Ripper, the slayer of therians and vampires alike, gazing at the weretiger with such pride and gratitude that it squeezed at Christof's undead heart. Initially, when he heard the rumors of Godric's nesting arrangements, he summed it up to a bout of insanity, but now he was beginning to understand Godric's fascination with this creature._

_"Accept my apologies," Christof started, but paused when Jan's brows furrowed in question as she looked up at him. Christof gulped under her gaze and Quinn narrowed his eyes. Vampires don't gulp unless blood is involved. "For our earlier misunderstanding," the vamp clarified softly, "and it seems I've been rude in monopolizing your time." After another deep bow, Christof led Jan back to Quinn and zipped out the room, followed by a giggling and highly amused Viviana._

_In no time, Jan was back in Quinn's arms, her ear pressed against his thumping heart as they moved in a soft sway for several songs. "I'm sorry for worrying you," she murmured into his chest, relaxing into the sound of his soft continuous purr._

_"Don't sweat it, Beautiful."_

_The serenity was short lived. Christof cut in six more times that evening and with every God-forsaken dance, he swore Christof's gaze softened more and more. The fanger was as bad a Godric, already fawning over her, drowning and delirous with curiosity. Quinn knew better than to act like an ass, but goddammit, it was hard to watch her clueless responses to Christof's flirtations. Luckily, she came off as coy and evasive, not naive.  
><em>

_For the rest of the evening, others introduced themselves and gave a kiss to her knuckle. Quinn noticed it after Jan mentioned it, the spicier smell of the ones she identified as Old Ones; and every single Old One at the ball touched Jan in some way, at least once. Jan searched the ballroom with her eyes. _

_"Where did he go?" she asked Quinn._

_"Who?" Quinn asked. Christof stared with lust-filled googly eyes from four tables away, so she wasn't talking about him._

_"The eldest," she threw the words over her shoulder as she strolled to the corner that was occupied by the vamp in question for the majority of the night. She took in a deep sniff and followed the vamp's scent trail._

_"What are you doing?" Quinn asked incredulously._

_"I'll meet you at the table." She went to the balcony beyond Quinn's direct line of sight. It was obscured by several tables and a wall, but still within hearing range._

_Her steps were slow. Quinn could hear the soft scrapes of her heels on the cement floor. "May I have this dance?" she whispered. There was no answer, but he heard two pairs of shoes, scuffling in timed steps._

_"I'm Jannalyn Bannister."_

_"You mean the Ripper," a lifeless voice replied, but it carried the resonance of age and strength. "Atanas Stojan. I'd say I'm pleased to meet your acquaintance, but when I consider how many were given the true death by your hand, I'm not pleased at all."_

_"Fair enough. I wanted to...it's just...I know that look," she said nervously._

_"And what look do you speak of?" Stojan responded coldly._

_She cleared her throat. "I've seen it before, in my own reflection." What the hell is she talking about? Quinn strained to hear more._

_"Hmm. If it was once there, I cannot see it. Tell me, Ripper, what was the remedy?" Stojan asked._

_"If an immortal doesn't know, what hope do I have?" her words were laced with agonizing sadness and vulnerable helplessness. The steps stopped followed by a long silence. After a solid minute, timed footsteps resumed for the remainder of the song._

_"May I ask what I smell like?" Stojan asked.  
><em>

_"Cinnamon rolls. I doubt I could ever eat one again."_

_A deep maniacal laugh boomed causing several vampires to look in the direction of the balcony. The laughter was followed by a content sigh._

_"I shall not forget you, Miss Bannister." An unnatural disturbance of the air alerted Quinn to what happened next, the vampire took flight. After a moment, Jan returned to the table and damn it if she didn't smell like sulfuric cinnamon rolls._

_"John, please take me to the lake," she whispered and he couldn't be happier to blow the joint._

"Who's Jan?" Sookie asked, only because the weretiger kept broadcasting the name, over and over again. Quinn's body tensed and he grew hostile.

"What did I tell you?! About being in my head?"

"Chill out! I didn't do it on purpose! You were loud!"

"Just..." he half-sighed, half-growled. "Keep it to yourself. At least have the courtesy to give people the illusion of privacy. Come on."

"So what's the next step in all this?" Sookie asked as she got into Quinn's running SUV. He offered to take her to work, since he was headed that way.

"He's flying to New York to deliver the scrolls. Your vamps are probably reading the complaints as we speak."

"New York?! They've been in New York?" She imagined they were partying hard in the city that never sleeps, feeding like leeches and banging donors.

"Yeah." Quinn pulled out his cellphone and dialed a number. "Lamar, I'm on my way to see her now. When can you get here?" There was a pause. "Stall? For how long? Got it." He ended the call and started another.

"Everything alright?"

He ignored Sookie's question as the line picked up. "Beaumont," he greeted. "Meet us at Merlotte's in approximately thirty minutes. Do not leave your vehicle. Wolves will be prowling."

* * *

><p>Quinn stood five feet from the door, ignoring the wolves, not at all concerned about their numbers. He noticed there were barely any human patrons tonight, probably spooked away due to the presence of many predators in the same room. "Jan." He said her name and her shot glass stopped just an inch from her lips.<p>

Holly was grinning, eyes going back and forth from Quinn to Jan. Lafayette muttered a 'lawd have mercy,' as he took in the monster sized dreamboat that walked in. And Jan was stuck; relieved, troubled, and ecstatic that Quinn survived a possible meeting with Godric.

Alcide watched her slow steps towards the giant weretiger, who waited to be approached like an Alpha wolf would. Wolves usually avert eyes when approaching a dominant male, but she didn't break eye contact and neither did he. There were no smiles between them. She stopped three feet away and stared up at him. Each held their heads high, necks completely exposed to one another in a sign of mutual respect, total lack of fear, and equal deference. Quinn was the first to move by opening his arms.

"We gonna hug this out or what?" Quinn gave a panty dropping grin and Jan's face lit up as she leaned into his large body. Huge arms wrapped around her tiny torso as hers circled large shoulders. He lifted her from the floor in a bear hug and simultaneously, their eyes closed as their foreheads pressed together. "I've missed you, Beautiful," he whispered, his lips almost touching hers in a ghost-like kiss.

Watching them and hearing the single compliment delivered so effortlessly earned several 'awws' from Holly and company. Arlene and Sookie, both joined in to watch the spectacle.

Jan leaned back a little and gently ran her fingers down the ragged scars on his brow bone and cheek. Her eyes showed remorse in what seemed like a silent but endless apology.

"Don't babe. Bygones, remember?" he whispered.

The soft smile on the bigger man's face made Alcide's heart drop down into his stomach, because he knew what he was seeing. This man loved Jannalyn. Sure, Alcide wanted her, cared for her, and needed her in a way that didn't make sense to the man in him, but he could not say he loved her, nor could he say he understood her, and he damn sure couldn't say he deserved her either.

Jan pushed on Quinn's biceps and his grip loosened. Her lithe body slid down to land softly on her feet.

"Whoa." A small voice squeaked out, making Quinn turn his head toward the sound. Emma, dressed in pajamas and intimidated by the sheer size of the man, inched closer to Jan to hide behind her leg.

"Who's this?" Quinn asked, peeking down at the child, delighted to see Jan overcame some of her fears regarding wolf children.

With a single arm, Jan gently rearranged Emma to stand at her side. "Introduce yourself." Emma nervously declined and Jan gave Quinn her back to speak directly to the child. Doing so showed unparalleled trust in the tiger and the wolf in Emma recognized it right away. "Think of what I've told you today. Do you think I'd lie to you?" The pup nodded another no. "Quinn is safe." Emma trusted Jan and if Jan trusted him, then that made him alright in her book.

A burst a pride exploded in her chest when Emma fearlessly extended her hand and exchanged pleasant introductions. "You match," Emma noted after inspecting a few scars on his hand. "But you kinda stink."

"You're the stinky one, kid." Quinn smirked. "I see she has your honesty, Jan. No wonder you like each other."

Luna came looking for her missing child, who sneaked out of bed and into the bar via the back entrance. "Emma Marie Garza. Bed. Now."

"I gotta go. G'nite!" the child cheekily giggled, racing passed her mother to beat her back to Sam's. Luna trailed behind her daughter, shaking her head the whole way.

Quinn stared at Jan but it felt like an inspection.

"What? The little one latched on like a Pitbull and won't let go. I don't know why."

He pulled at Jan's waist and kissed her forehead, making eye contact with Alcide as he did. "I do and so does Frannie. Come on. Let's get this monster thing out of the way. We have bigger fish to fry." Quinn tried to move around Jan to approach the Packmaster, but a scarred hand to his chest halted any progress.

"Like what? What other business is there?"

"Later, Jan. Not in here. Too many ears." Her hand dropped to her side and both walked to the booth in sync.

For being fifty pounds heavier than Alcide, Quinn's footsteps were light, near silent in dress shoes. Jan's footfalls had no sound. Alcide watched her eyes flicker around the room, reminiscent of how she looked this morning, already checking for any signs of aggression.

"That's the one you gotta worry about, son." Bert muttered under his breath.

* * *

><p>AN: Please don't hate me for all the Quinn love. "There's a method to my madness." Isa breaking the news is next.


	22. Associations

A/N: Hello all. Again, thanks for the reviews, favorites, and subscriptions. Here's a question: If True Blood made a casting call for Quinn, who would be perfect for the role? Ponder the idea, folks. I'd really like to hear your answers. In the meantime, here's the next!

* * *

><p><strong>Beauty Is Scarred Deep<strong>

**By**

**SupeSympathizer**

**Chapter Twenty Two: Associations**

* * *

><p>From the minute Quinn walked through the door, Alcide expected off-putting conceitedness and probably some posturing from an ex-gladiator champion, but for some reason, what he got was a semi-affable guy that had the power to make every woman in the bar squeal and coo like teenaged girls. The weretiger oozed natural charm and a confident grace, qualities most men dream of having, and had a laid back, accepting friendliness that drew women in, especially Jannalyn, who seemed to think the man was her personal overgrown teddy bear.<p>

Based on their intimate greeting, which carried on for far too long, Alcide was certain it was Jannalyn who left the old scar on the weretiger's face and he couldn't help but to wonder at the details. What had gone wrong between them? Was it the Beast? Why did she still seek forgiveness for it? But the question that nagged to be answered was- why did the tiger let her travel the continent as a lone wolf when he obviously loves her?

Quinn strolled forward with Jannalyn following, slightly behind and off to his right. She silently prowled forward and pinned a few of his pack with her challenging, emotionless stare, daring them to make a move. Averted eyes and bared necks seemed to calm her, but Alcide could see how her eyes drifted to the exits. He was sure she already formulated an escape plan for the both of them, if the meeting went sour.

Though surrounded by wolves, the tiger was surprisingly calm as if he was impervious to harm... like nothing bad could or would happen to him. Perhaps the confidence existed because he knew Jannalyn was in his corner and had his back in everything -a thought that stroked the fire of jealousy in Alcide- or maybe, just maybe, he was just as badass as the Ripper and the outside world seemed like a cakewalk in comparison.

Quinn's height allowed him to eye the empty seating space across from Alcide. He was far too big to fit comfortably in the booth and if he tried to cram himself in, it would obstruct any free movement. A no-no among so many wolves. So along the way, he plucked a empty chair from a unoccupied table and brought it with him to sit in the aisle.

Pretty boy Packmaster looked pretty aggravated, but Quinn noticed that his observation turned to Jan and morphed into concern. It wasn't the typical gaze Jan garnered from most Packmasters. Most viewed her as a threat or as a potential henchman for their dirty work, but this one...Quinn shelved the thought for later contemplation as Jan scooted into the booth and looked at her hands, a sign that she was having a hard time reigning in her emotions.

Briefly, he wondered if it was the aftereffect of their reunion or if she somehow sensed the shitstorm approaching.

"Need anythin' else hun?" With a grin, Holly placed the bottle of tequila and a large pilsner of domestic beer on the table.

Bypassing the shot glasses, Jan hurriedly drank several long gulps straight from the bottle, downing a quarter of it. Something was wrong if she was trying to catch a buzz, try being the keyword. Due to her strange metabolism, it took several bottles to get her drunk and even then, three hours was all it took for her body to neutralize and dispel the alcohol.

Normally, Quinn would endorse a little binge drinking, for a tipsy Jan was incredibly silly and absolutely hilarious, but she needed all her faculties for the devastating news she had to digest tonight.

"No thanks, Holly. Will you please close out the tab for me?"

"Sure hun. How soon do you need it?" Holly asked, sensing the change in his normally jovial mood and the underlying tension at the table. Alcide noted that the weretiger scanned the parking lot before answering.

"Soon. We can't stay." Purple met brown, in a relaxed fearless gaze.

It sounded like the decision was his; final and indisputable, as if law were just spoken. Alcide didn't know how to take it, especially when Jannalyn did not argue. Was he ordering a pride member or was he staking claim on the woman?

"Can't or won't?" Jan asked. It was her way of trying to determine the unknown, as she usually does. Can't implied an impending engagement or business, won't implied choice, so his answer would shed some light.

"Both." Quinn answered, his eyes fixated on the Packmaster. "Jan, do you have the phone?"

_Brought too many damn wolves...can't let her blow in here...never forgive herself_- Quinn thought and Sookie overheard. Hearing his thoughts again made her pause and when she stopped moving, she heard much, much more. _Beaumont needs to come on... fucking pretty boy Packmaster... eyes over here, bud, you'll fuck around and set her off..._

"In my pocket," she answered.

"Perhaps you should step out and make a phone call to Lamar." _Take the easy out, babe. Please, please don't argue._

Her lips pressed together. "I'd rather not." She noticed the staring contest and could not risk Quinn being injured. Her Beast wouldn't stand for it. "I don't know a Lamar."

"Yes, you do," he bit out cryptically. "Make the call, Jan." He demanded while keeping both eyes on the Packmaster. "Step outside. You'll need the privacy."

Quinn wasn't behaving normally. He didn't order her around, he _suggested_, and that was no suggestion. She took in a deep calming breath as she stood. "Fine, but you'll explain this later." She freed the phone from her jeans, but paused to lean over the table. "All of you, be nice." It was an address to the whole table, probably the whole damn bar, which sounded like a cobra's hiss. To Quinn's surprise, Alcide was the first to nod. Satisfied, she pressed the name on the screen as she walked passed Sookie, toting the bottle in her other hand. "Greetings, Luis. Miss Bannister on the line. I've been instructed to contact Lamar," her voice became muffled from leaving the building.

Alcide's position demanded that he act with diplomacy and professionalism for his pack and his wolf demanded that he _obey mate_, so begrudgingly, that's exactly what he did. He extended a hand. "Alcide Herveaux, Packmaster of the Long Tooth."

The tiger's quick grip completed the greeting. "John Quinn." He offered no titles, nor did he mention being a former gladiator champion.

"Who runs the show between you and Jan?" Bert questioned. He was also under the assumption that Quinn welcomed Jannalyn into his tiger family, but he didn't understand the pecking order. Both ordered the other and both complied to the other's wishes, something that did not happen among wolves unless they were a pair.

"Neither." Quinn offered nothing else on the subject. "Jan and I have another engagement, so I suggest we speed things up and keep aggression to a minimum." He glanced at the windows. "We wouldn't want her to blow." _Like she did in Arizona. She's gonna blame herself. Damn it, Godric! You selfish prick!_

Sookie gasped at overhearing a name she hadn't heard in quite some time, but played off the shock when Quinn turned his head to stare.

The faerie heard an explosion of a threatening mental roar that nearly dropped her to her knees._ Get out of my head!_ His mind shouted, only no one would ever know by appearances. Calm as a baby on a tit, he then turned to Alcide. "What I'm about to tell you, Jan can't have any part in. You've got a serious problem on your hands."

* * *

><p>Due to Quinn's odd behavior, Jan had jumped to several conclusions, especially after dialing Lamar. A male secretary named Luis stated it was the line for the King of California and Lamar was not in power when she left. She could only think of two scenarios for such a change; either Amun's status had been elevated to the ranks of the Authority, or he'd been overthrown and was truly dead.<p>

She paced as she waited on the line, working herself into a frenzy, growing angrier by the second.

While Jan waited, she recalled the time Amun took her to a museum in New York where he accidentally came upon one of his sisters. As he gazed at the mummified body, Tari was what he called her, the youngest and most beautiful of all his siblings. At the time of her death, he was a very young vampire, so he couldn't attend the Procession of Sorrow or the daytime funeral. Once the tomb was sealed, he lost the chance to properly say goodbye and offer tribute for the journey into the afterlife.

He also confided that almost three millennia later, he had to stand by and do nothing, under orders from the Authority, while human scholars and crypt robbers desecrated the resting places of his family. The vampire government feared he would expose vampires to the human populace, so he was silvered and shipped to the other side of the world.

Since the Great Revelation, being called upon by inquisitive professors to recall his history, after housing most of his families' remains in museums across the world, was a knife to a festering wound. And then to find Tari's body on public display...

The pain in his voice as he recounted these personal details and the wrinkles etched around his eyes from centuries of disuse was something Jan would never forget. Minutes later the vampire shut down, as most do when emotionally distressed, so Jan took on the role of caretaker and protector, staying close to Amun for several nights in New York while he grieved in silence.

On the west coast, Quinn effectively took over for the King and advised the Area Sheriffs, but Amun's enemies were making moves to position themselves for a take-over. Two attempts were thwarted in a less than a week and at the rate Quinn was working, he was sure to fall ill from exhaustion.

Finally, after two weeks had passed, Jan had had enough of watching the vampire deteriorate. Amun had grown weak and had lost considerable body mass from dehydration, so she was able to pick up the taller man and dump him into a tub of lukewarm water, all the while complaining about the stench emanating from his body and relentlessly taunting him about his inability to fight her off.

As predicted, Amun attacked and at the first taste of blood in weeks, he began to feed. She embraced him as he drank, craddling his head like a mother does a child, while whispering the only soothing and encouraging word she knew- live.

Although antagonizing a starving 3200 year old vampire was extremely dangerous, she thought it was necessary in achieving the desired result. Regardless of the obtuse and disrespectful delivery, her message and intentions were clear. There would be no laying down to die in her presence.

The following night when Amun awoke and clarity returned, he was furious. The manner in which she got him to feed... he called her all sorts of reckless for using his vampiric nature against him. Both knew he could have drained her dry in that state- he nearly did- and seeing her weakened and pale only infuriated the old King further.

He forcibly inspected her body and upon discovering the extensive bruising he left behind during the violent feeding, which Quinn would have tried to kill him for, his anger lost steam and was replaced with horror. He immediately apologized and then demanded answers, specifically, why she interfered when she would gain and lose nothing in the event of his true death.

Her reply was that he wasn't thinking clearly, therefore, she assumed control of the situation and would again, if his depression returned. As gentle as her words were, he took it as fair warning. Since then, Amun has made it a point to sip blood in her presence as proof of his well-being, just to avoid another dangerous intervention.

The line beeped, signalling a pick up and before Lamar could speak, threats were flying.

"Save your pleasantries. I have but a single question and your answer will be the deciding factor in whether you continue to exist. What have you done with Amun?" Unconsciously, she paced the exact length of her cage in the Pits, looking every bit the caged animal. The line went silent. "Answer me!"

_"Miss Bannister, I have done nothing to myself but changed my name."_

She stopped moving, drew in deep breaths, and guzzled more of the bottle. The amusement was clear in the voice she recognized as Amun and she imagined a sepia smirk on the other end of the line. Her bones felt heavy as the anger left her body and due to the emotional whiplash, she couldn't speak for a moment.

_"Miss Bannister?"_

"I'm here," she croaked out. "Accept my apologies. For a moment I thought..." you were truly dead.

Lamar understood what she didn't say and if her deep breaths were any indicator, the thought of his demise had distressed her. He was genuinely touched by her ferocity, but was also disturbed that she threatened a King she didn't know. Doing so was a death warrant and she knew enough about vampire politics to know better.

_"Are you well?_" he asked, eying a clock in his bed chamber. Five more minutes. The sun would be completely set soon and he planned to fly to Louisiana to assist his friends, as soon as possible.

"I am, Amun. I mean, Lamar" she responded and immediately took another long swig of tequila. The liquid slosh echoing inside of the bottle was heard on the other end of the line.

_"Quinn told me you wouldn't be pleased, but I mistook the warning as a potential dislike for the new moniker. I did not anticipate your reaction and he should have given you some forewarning."_

"He did, as best as he could at the moment. Unfortunately, I still jumped to the wrong conclusions." Embarrassed, she took another deep breath and finally began to calm down as the heat from the tequila settled in her belly. "I'm relieved I only have to tolerate a new name, a much better prospect than seeing a new face as King."

He chuckled at the awkward honesty that only she had the balls to give. Even the most powerful of vampires would censor their words. _"Tolerate? Lamar Brown is much simpler and is innocuous enough...don't you think?"_ She quieted, withholding her true opinion. _"Miss Bannister, your silence is unsettling. I ask for your honest opinion and wish to know of any concerns."_

"It isn't a bad name, but if you were going for harmless, then you've done too well. I'm afraid the name gives the impression of being much, much younger, therefore, weaker. Was this your intention?"

The King grinned. _Always to the meat of the matter._ He eyed the clock. Two more minutes. _Keep her talking._

_"For my dealings with humans, yes. It provides some anonymity, camouflage if you will, as there are precisely 116 Lamar Browns in California alone. As you know, since the Great Revelation, my name has been a burden. I have dodged repeated calls from anthropologists and historians who desire information on my mortal family. I've glamoured the persistent ones, but every decade or so, another comes with the same questions. I tire of the emotional toll."_

"Amun...Lamar," she sighed again. She would never get used to the name. "You will always be Amun-her-khepeshef, the Crowned Prince and son of the Great Pharaoh Ramesses II, just as I will always be the Ripper of the Pits. Had I been present, I would have advised you to participate in a final and complete correction in regards to your family to dispel speculation and solve historical mysteries, so you could be left alone in peace." The line became distorted with indecipherable rustling sounds. "Amun? I'm losing reception."

* * *

><p>Alcide listened as the tiger told him and Bert all that he knew of the tainted keitre, otherwise known as a bog demon. His description matched the previous two recountings and he gave a brief rundown of its known behavior.<p>

According to Quinn's resources, the keitre establishes hunting grounds and usually chooses lone animals as prey. It hunts like a komodo dragon; inflicting a bite or scratch to infect its prey with a slow acting toxin that incapacitates by attacking the central nervous system. The toxin keeps the body fresh, so the common supposition was that it ate its prey while it was immobile, very much alive and conscious. The creature is also rumored to have regenerative abilities and Quinn conveyed there were no records of confirmed kills.

"None of you should travel alone, especially in the woods. Also, a family of witches, the Laveaus, have been tracking its movement for over twenty years. They claim the creature has developed a taste for therian flesh and that it started the war between the two packs in the southern half of Louisiana, the Half Ear out of Alexandria and the Bullet pack out of New Orleans. It picked off members from both sides and the packs kept blaming the other. Unfortunately, neither Masters listened to the Laveaus and now those packs are dismantled. In the end, only the historians walked away, but they too, disappeared."

Julien mentioned the Laveaus earlier in the day, when they were discussing Theo. "My Second told me a few Laveaus moved here a few years back. Think it was a coincidence?"

"No. The old man, Paris," Quinn pronounced the name in French, "is the Patriarch and leader. He must have known it was coming this way, then."

"He knew and didn't warn anyone?" Alcide seethed.

"His power is the gift of premonition, but his visions are subjective, based on and altered by the decisions a person makes. Some say, his gift is true foresight like the Fates, where every possible outcome is seen but having the gift limits direct involvement. Your best bet is to make contact and form an temporary alliance."

"Julien, take two others and find him. The rest of you, travel in pairs and don't get caught alone." As Alcide issued the order, his cellphone began to ring. He pulled it from his jacket pocket but didn't recognize the number. "Herveaux speaking," he answered.

_"No need ta com' lookin', ha? We be on our way."_ A female voice said and before Alcide could respond, the line went dead.

"Foresight." Quinn reiterated. "I've heard nothing but good about the old man, however, don't cross the Laveau women. I hear they're temperamental and some have to the power to make your blood boil, literally speaking." Glancing out into the parking lot again, he cursed as a limo pulled in. He immediately stood, the hulking heavy frame rising in a smooth fluid movement. "Our other business is here. Have a good evening."

* * *

><p>Three things happened at once. A limo pulled up, Amun kicked up dirt as he landed ten feet away, and Quinn rushed out of the bar and into the parking lot. Taking in the triangulated positions, she realized she was surrounded and goddamnit, they knew better. Well, Quinn knew better, so this had to be Amun's doing.<p>

"Amun? Why am I surrounded?" She didn't miss the glare Amun threw in Quinn's direction, looking every bit like he wanted to cut the tiger's heart out. The last she checked, they were inseparable friends, brothers from another mother, so his reaction left her with one conclusion- Quinn had betrayed her.

"Jan, go to the limo." Quinn hated the how she looked at him then, with uncertainty and saddened by a perceived knife in her back._ I wouldn't Jan_- and then, like a repentant convict on the way to the electric chair, her shoulders squared in resolve. "Jan please, just get in."

Per the custom of Bloodrites, no one but the deliverer of urns was allowed to hint at such news and if Jan ran off now, Beaumont wouldn't be able to complete the task and the souls of the truly departed would never rest. It was the reason he recruited Lamar, to restrain her if need be.

"Why?" she rasped and again, neither offered an explanation. Her eyes scanned for an escape route and quickly, she decided the best course of action was a well timed leap over the limo, but she knew she was at a disadvantage with Amun present. He would surely catch her, no matter how hard she fought. "I don't understand," her voice cracked, as she scanned her surroundings once again.

The soft squeal of the limo door opening, alerted her to movement, but she didn't react fast enough. A blurred figure surged forward with dropped fangs and to her surprise, she was pulled behind the hissing vampire. "You insipid fools! Even I know better than to surround her!"

"Isa?" Jan whispered in a high pitched, shaking voice.

As soon as the name left her lips, the lady vamp turned to envelope her in a tight hug, sobbing softly into Jan's shoulder. Isabel pulled back and looked her over, crimson tears temporarily blurring her vision as it pooled and leaked down her cheeks. Cold hands ghosted over Jan's face, noting that she had more scars than she remembered.

"Come. We have many things to discuss."

* * *

><p>"Well, they're not fighting." Lamar said, hoping to calm the tiger.<p>

Both were side-by-side leaning against the hood of the sound proof, light tight limo, waiting for shit to hit the fan in the worst way possible.

"How are you so calm, right now? This could be Arizona all over again!" Quinn fired back, irritated at his best friend's lack of give a damn.

"And if it is, we do what we must again." His shoulder bumped into Quinn's shoulder, the animal equivalent of a reassuring nudge.

* * *

><p>"These are yours."<p>

Beaumont placed the box in Jan's lap, crying the whole time. Failing to deliver the urns had been weighing heavily at her conscience for the last four years and she felt a sense of relief in accomplishing the task. Only now, she was saddened that she would witness the grief of another, who had once been an integral part of their now fallen nest.

Jan hesitated as she lifted the lid of the small wooden box, at catching bloodred velvet satchels meant to protect the palm sized glass urns. She looked up at Isa, cracked her neck, and then pressed forward, unsheathing the first. She pulled at the stopper and sniffed.

"Catherine." Isa confirmed with a nod. Reverently and oh-so carefully, Jan kissed the urn, replaced the stopper, and slid the urn back into the velvet purse. She did the same with next two, Paulo and Stan, but she held onto what remained of Stan a bit longer, hoping against all hope that the last urn was not the remaining member of the nest- Godric.

"You must continue, Jan." Isa gently urged. "You must. It's been too long."

With shaking hands, she brought Stan's urn to her lips, placed it into its slot, and reached for the next, slowly sliding the urn from the velvet. Only it wasn't full of blood as the others were. She lifted the urn to the overhead light and discovered it only had a half inch of...ash? She removed the stopper and gently sniffed to avoid inhaling the contents. When the scent registered, her throat felt tight, as if she were being strangled.

Involuntarily, her mind recalled the night she left Dallas with perfect clarity. The nest had an open door policy for all area vampires, but most steered clear of the nest for once. Isa cried the entire time Jan packed, Catherine and Paolo voiced parental-like fears with angry hisses, a catatonic Godric stood in the middle of the destroyed living room, while Stan Baker leaned against a wall with his hat pulled down to cover most of his face. The cowboy vamp followed her to the door when the airport shuttle arrived and he muttered a few departing words. _"You'll be back and we'll be here, waitin'."_

A single tear slid down her cheek and cold steel eyes settled on Isa once more. "Tell me...what happened?"

* * *

><p>At first, Alcide hadn't known what to think about a vamp landing in the parking lot like Superman, but didn't interfere when an attractive lady vamp put herself between Jan and the flying vamp in a protective stance, shouting with fangs in place. The relief on Jan's face as the vamp crushed their bodies together, simultaneously calmed his nerves and gave him a bad taste in his mouth at her close associations with fangers. It was another intimate greeting he didn't care to witness.<p>

Then, without any protest, she'd disappeared into the limo, but that was over twenty minutes ago.

From inside of Merlotte's, he watched Superman vamp and the tiger, who seemed to share a respectful, almost brotherly kind of affection that blew his mind. He had no doubt that's precisely how the two viewed each other, as kin, and he tried to understand how Jannalyn fit into their strange little family. Was she the unstable sister, runaway mate, or some variation of pack? Either way, it seemed she would always have a vamp in her life, one way or another.

Currently, he's waiting on the Laveaus to show, but he was anxious to see Jannalyn exit the limo. From the looks of the two waiting against the hood, they were worried about something. Quinn caught him staring, so he gestured with a nod for Alcide to join them. He didn't know what was going on out there, but he wouldn't miss an opportunity to find out. He dropped all predisposed prejudices and general dislike for Jannalyn's weird and undefined relationships with these people, and went outside.

"What's going on with Jannalyn?" He looked over his shoulder and seen that Julien had followed.

"Jan is being notified of the true deaths of former nest mates." Quinn could almost see the gears spinning fumes in Alcide's head as he connected the dots and learned another disturbing fact. "Don't look too surprised. Surely you've heard the rumors. It would explain your interest."

_What the fuck did he just say?_ "You might wanna check your facts before you go accusin' me of shit. My interest has nothin' to do with her past."

"Then it's her skills or maybe you think having the Ripper in your ranks will give you a name. Who knows... but here's a little FYI. Whatever you're trying to con from her, she won't do it. Her bullshit detector works like a charm and she'll leave quicker than you can say gone."

"That what she did to you? Ripped up your face and left? It must suck to wear a daily reminder of the one who got away." It was a childish low blow, but it wiped the holier-than-thou look off his face.

"You don't know shit about us!" Quinn roared, advancing a step. Superman vamp placed a palm on the the tiger's chest and hissed something in another language. "Fine," his jaw flexed a few times, and then he retreated back to his previous spot against the hood.

The male vampire turned to Alcide and captured his eyes; boring, pulling, and enchanting. "If it's not her past, or skills, or the notoriety of her name, what do you want from her?"

"A life partner." His voice had a dream-like quality, soft but somehow echoed in his ears from all around, from the quiet of the trees. "I've already asked and she seemed to consider... but then she told me to explore other options. I don't understand why she doesn't want me."

Julien realized what was happening and quickly moved to break the glamour, but Quinn blocked his path. "Don't interfere, wolf."

"Life partner? As in mates?" Lamar's eyes narrowed in concentration, doubling his efforts.

"I'm already hers and she doesn't understand. Why doesn't she want me?" Alcide stumbled, gasping as the effects of a very powerful glamour dissipated. _Motherfucker!_ "You son of a bitch!"

Lamar merely looked on with amusement as the wolf's senses stabilized, but the amusement quickly turned into pity. "Have you ever played the game of word association, wolf?"

_Great. Another Ludwig._ "Don't distract from how fucked up that was. I don't appreciate being hoodoo-ed."

"Noted, but we both know you wouldn't have answered truthfully otherwise. Now, have you played the game or not?"

"I'm familiar with it." He nodded to Julien that he was fine.

"Then here's your first word. Relationship."

"Jannalyn." The answer came out too fast and Alcide briefly wondered if he was still under the vampire's spell.

"Miss Bannister and I played once and do you know how she answered?" Alcide shrugged and looked on with expectation, hoping to learn something new about her views. "Cage, wolf. Relationships feel like a cage. Even the ones she shares with us." He gestured from himself to Quinn, then stared at the tiger for a second. "She suffocates easily. If one holds on too tightly, the more she wants to escape."

Due to the distant greeting the vampire had with Jan, he knew the vampire wasn't talking about himself. He was referring to Quinn, who preferred to act like the conversation wasn't taking place at the moment. Is that how he got the scar? He didn't come off as pushy guy, so his guess was that the scar was inflicted accidentally. Suddenly, he felt sorry for the tiger and equally sorry for himself. What had his wolf gotten him into?

* * *

><p>AN: I'm moving folks, so my computer will be out of commission for the next few days. I'll still be able to read any reviews on my phone, so don't forget to hit the button. I love hearing what you think!


	23. Premises and Promises

Beauty is Scarred Deep

By

SupeSympathizer

Chapter Twenty Three: Premises and Promises

* * *

><p>"You said you weren't the only one who is awaiting her return..." Quinn hedged, trying to keep his mind off the fact that pretty boy packmaster faintly smelled of Jan, a scent the tiger flaunted with pride once upon a time. He checked the jealousy filling his veins and stomped down the rage blooming in his chest at what that idiot wolf implied.<p>

Jan did not _rip up his face_ on purpose. It was an accident, fueled by Quinn's frustration at the pace of Jan's progress during one of their exercises. He was the one who held on for far too long_ and_ ignored the wild, panicked look on her face. So it was no surprise that she shifted in his arms, clawing his face in the process.

"The King of Belgium." Lamar deadpanned, bringing Quinn back on topic.

"What? We have no business in Belgium. What could he possibly want?"

Lamar looked incredibly frustrated. Whatever the matter, it couldn't be good. Nothing good comes from a visibly annoyed vamp. "Belgium wants a Queen."

It took Quinn a few seconds to understand. "What?!" Quinn almost screeched like his little sister. "She's a wolf! Is he insane?"

"Hardly."

"Of course, he's insane!" Quinn began to pace. "They shared six, _six_ fucking dances at the World Summit four years ago! There is no way-"

"Need I remind you? We have high definition photographic memories with impeccable recall. I'm positive he relives every step, every word, every nuance, over and over again." His lips pressed into a straight line. "Christof sought the counsel of several ancients, all of whom are willing to petition the Authority to lift the law against the turning of therians in the hopes of allowing a single exception."

Fuck no. "First off, Jan and Belguim? Not gonna happen. Second, Jan turning? That won't happen either. Third, the petition is as good a dead. Roman would never allow it."

"Roman may not have a choice. Christof has had four years to plan, act, and gain supporters on the matter. It seems interspecie relationships are now in."

Quinn could feel a headache coming on. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?! First, this Packmaster and now Belguim?!" When Lamar nodded in seriousness, Quinn belllowed out. "Fuck my life! Did Belguim actually say the words?"

Lamar closed his eyes, lamenting a fact he didn't care to repeat. "Yes. Eternal companion is the exact language he uses when he speaks of Miss Bannister. But there's more. Since Moscow, Christof has frivolously announced his intentions and I fear it was what drove Godric to the sun."

Shit. Quinn didn't want to imagine how Jan would react to that tidbit of information and hoped she never found out. "How are you so calm about this, Lamar? I thought-"

"I wasn't calm," he admitted with a hiss.

"Brother, _do not_ get cryptic on me now." Quinn growled out, losing all semblance of patience with his dearest friend.

"Let's just say, I ignored the rumors until the petition arrived on my desk for review. The next thing I know, I'm racing the sun, then I'm on the other side of the world exchanging punches with the man in a underground compound. Our quarrel ended when we collided into a wall, causing the collapse of the structure above. Turns out, we destroyed a chateau- a home undergoing renovations- a home he intended to share with Miss Bannister. We were trapped in the rubble for a few hours, so we spoke on the matter until we dug ourselves free." Lamar shrugged, like destroying a _castle_ was just another day in his undead life.

"How the _fuck_ do I keep this from her? How the hell am I supposed to keep her safe from _him_?" The tiger's shoulders deflated as helplessness settled in. "What do I do?"

"Nothing. Eternal companionship cannot be forced, nor can there be any coercion or trickery." Quinn's quizzical expression prompted another sigh and an explanation. "What he seeks is deeper than bonding and pledging. It is rumoured that eternal couples share a telepathic/empathic link, that every deed is known as well as every thought and emotion, making it impossible for one to deceive the other. There is also a severe side effect to this type of bond, a side effect that causes my kind to avoid partaking in the ritual. One cannot, _will not_ walk the earth without the other. You see, if one were destroyed, both would cease to exist."

Quinn was going to be sick. "No kidding?" he asked with a grimace. What the actual fuck did Jan _do_ to these vamps?

"Afraid not. Christof offers a level of commitment that many of my kind would not dare to attempt, therefore, should _not_ be met with any publicized opposition."

"You sound like you're rooting for him!" Quinn was pissed.

Lamar scoffed. "You insult me. I could care less about Belgium's happiness. I fully anticipate the harshest of rejections."

"Damn right, she'll reject him-"

Just then they heard a thunk, then a crash as Jan and Isabel tumbled out of the limo door, brawling in supe speed. Lamar zipped over and promptly separated the two women, holding each by the collars of their clothes.

"Let go!" Jan growled out, still reaching for Isabel, who happened to be just out reach.

"You ungrateful child!" Isabel hissed out, grabbing out with equal enthusiasm. "I did it for YOU!"

"You changed him! How the fuck can I kill him if he smells like you?"

Within seconds, a furious Jan was passed off to Quinn, held chest to chest in an iron-clad grip of a bear hug. With a few long strides, he moved the both of them away from Lamar, who was gently scolding a dangling Isabel. "Stop Jan," the tiger whispered to the side of Jan's head, as he walked deeper into the woods, straining against her struggling and bucking form.

"You spoke fondly of her once, so stop!"

Three furious intakes of breath later, Jan stilled and slowly sagged against his broad body in defeat. Only then did he feel the dampness collecting on his shoulder and smell the salt of her tears. "Aww babe," he murmured, halting his steps to rearrange her now shaking form. After securing her body against his, he crouched down to the forest floor and bounded up into a tree. Within no time, he was lying on his back on a thick branch, cradling her head to his chest. And there they stayed, until her sobs subsided.

* * *

><p>Alcide wanted to intervene when the tiger dragged Jan into the woods, kicking and squirming.<p>

"STOP!" Paris' voice stopped his advance, freezing Alcide in place. "Don't go into those woods, or it'll be the last thing you do."

That she-wolf _must_ leave tonight. Her presence was throwing everything way off course, making Paris, check and double check the future. Perhaps it's because the strange woman cheated death long ago, but Paris couldn't think too much on it. The timeline needed to be fixed.

"Is that a threat?!" Alcide growled out, struggling against the old man's spell.

"No. It is a fact. Leave them be." Paris has always been able to sense death when it's right around the corner. He was never wrong.

"But she's mine!" The Packmaster was losing it, so Paris did the only thing he could. He placed a hand on his shoulder to _see. _His brown eyes turned white, swirling like clouds as he looked into the Packmaster's future.

"No. She isn't. She belongs with him." He told Alcide what he needed to hear to let go. If he went into the woods, he would not survive the creature. Every possible leader after Alcide would send Emma to her demise and Theo would be lost to the dark without his light. With darkness comes war and destruction, and Theo would bring it to their doorstep. Every last Laveau would be wiped out.

"Bullshit!" Alcide strained against the old man's power and the wolves began to prowl around the witches, snapping their jaws.

"I boil all ya dogs!" Ida, Theo's mother, smacked her hands together in a clap, preparing to microwave everyone within a twenty foot diameter.

"We lose her if you do it." Paris advised, quietly and calmly. He cast images of the future towards his daughter, making her see how killing these wolves would affect Emma's perception of witches and in turn, of Theo when he came into full power. His light would reject him and he would go dark without his other half. The heat dissipated from his daughter's hands and she nodded in his direction. Paris turned his attention back to the frozen Packmaster. "Her future is a like a tree with too many branches, but she will have his children. That is what I see. That is what I know. And before you say it, the tiger will not die by your hands. A challenge will be _your_ death."

Then they all heard the tiger's roar of pain.

"And her future has changed again."

* * *

><p>From the tiptop of a small oak, Jan looked up to the sky, briefly observing the rapidly approaching storm clouds. Grey eyes blazed white hot, volatile and unpredictable, just like the ominous storm looming above. Below, she spotted the tainted keitre, inching around with spider-like, slow movements in dense brush.<p>

Jan couldn't physically afford another head on, side, or rear attack. Its long, black, scalpel-like talons are too sharp and Jan was growing tired and weak from her injuries. Her wounds were packed with mud and leaves to staunch the flow of blood, but moving around painfully reopened every cut and slash.

Ignoring the stings of pain, she silently lowered herself down and over a few branches, maximizing her position for a surprise aerial attack. It was her last hurrah, the very last resort. Every muscle tensed then twitched in excitement, itching to pounce. She sprung. The she-wolf landed on the creatures back, its skinny legs breaking in brittle snaps under her weight from the thirty foot drop. In a twist of fluid motion, she snapped its neck and the bog demon went limp, lying in a heap of oddly angled limbs.

She had exactly two and a half minutes to find the heart before its bones and flesh knitted back into place, so she had to get a move on. Limping with the last of her energy, she circled the body then rolled it over, ignoring the cloying stench of rotten meat in a half-lunge half-straddle over the creature's narrow bony hips.

_Just find it, Jan. You're almost done._

She was exhausted but she'd kick her own ass if the hunt dragged on for another four days and a few hundred more miles.

After a few firm blows to crack its sternum, she dug her fingers into the cold grey flesh to pry open the ribcage. Her face screwed up in disgust at the smell. Gagging, she carelessly discarded black oily organs over her shoulder in a frantic search until she found it.

Smiling her first genuine smile in days, she yanked the pumping organ free from the pelvic region, turning the creature and the discarded organs into a grayish-green ash; the blue heart rhythmically beating in her damaged fist as she stood on wobbly legs.

Relief was the most prominent emotion. The hunt for the therian flesh eating demon is finally over and there's only one thing left to do.

The organ burst like a grape when she bit into it, leaking black viscous fluid down her chin and chest, as she slowly devoured the bog demon's life force. Modern wolves consider this behavior antiquated and barbaric, but Jan couldn't shut off the hard-wired mandate to devour its heart, nor did she want to in this instance.

The ways of daemon and lower demons are simple. If you can kill one -the heart- their source of power is your prize; but every gift from the place we call Hell is also a curse. As she chewed, she wondered what gift-curse the keitre heart would bestow, as it is different with every Hellbound creature. Or at least, it had been with the three she consumed during her time in the Pits.

The first was a daemon heart from no other than Alazar, her former neighbor and friend. His enslavement had been long, his existence- even longer, and he was tired. One night, the firebreather snapped. Spitting fire like a dragon, he scorched some potential buyers to a crisp, three powerful vamps who came to peruse the merchandise up for auction in a few nights. "_The heart is power,_" he had said in his native tongue, "_you must eat._" And without further ado, he reached into his own chest and bestowed his most prized possession to Jan, placing it in her hand as he turned to ash.

In a shocked state, she held the offered heart of her friend, wondering if she had understood his last words. The slavers hadn't fed her in weeks, hoping to weaken her with starvation, and the hunger was so strong that she couldn't turn down the only food source available. So, she ate. Shame and loss consumed her in that dank cage as she mourned in silence.

Only afterwards did she realize Alazar sacrificed himself to ensure her survival.

Only then, did the concept of _choice_ enter her mind.

Sacrifice and choice, those lessons would later influence the decision to refuse a fight with one rare weretiger in the months to come.

Alazar's heart was a gift. Not only did it strengthen her weakened body, it made her faster and gave her olfactory sense an overhaul. Vamps suddenly smelled sweet, sugary sweet instead of gamy and sulfuric. This in turn, helped to develop the strange ability of detecting bloodlines among vampires. That was the curse. Her vampire opponents, now had families, whom she could smell, watching from the stands. It plucked at her conscience, not to mention, even a small sampling of blood gave her a severe stomach ache.

The second was a chupacabra heart. It gave her a strange metabolism; the ability to neutralize toxic chemicals and poison, but the downside was that most medicines including V were rendered largely ineffective. Thus, the creation of Ludwig's experimental medicinal cocktails in super concentrations.

The third was a ghoul's heart. It activated and amplified some of the dormant tiger qualities from her father's genes- but the downside was the internal awareness of Quinn's general presence, once he's within five hundred miles. Again, another side effect that would influence the choice to be lashed to death, instead of fighting a weretiger in the months to come... And long after, when she traveled the continent, there was a deep desire to establish her own territory just like a tigress- a counterproductive urge that hindered the mission of finding a place among wolves.

She just hoped she could live with a new curse.

Lightning split across the sky and a deafening clap of thunder rang in her ears as it began to rain again. Swallowing the last bite, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back to feel the full effect of the storm, a scarred angel of death getting a much needed cooling shower from the heavens. The wind was strong enough to sway her back and forth, rocking her like a mother does a child.

Smiling softly at the torrential rain, she grew pleasantly high. The combination of adrenaline from the hunt and the absorption of the bog demon's undetermined gift felt so good that she grinned at the buoyant sensations. The tightening of her skin drew her attention. Bleeding slashes on her chest, arms, and thighs began to push out the mud, coagulate and mend, slowly closing and vanishing altogether. She held her hand in front of her face and watched the dislocated fingers and smashed knuckles slide back into place with a series of pops. Her head began to itch, as the hair ripped from her scalp grew back. Full length, fine silky black hair now covered the bald spots giving her darker streaks. The color was wrong, but she wasn't complaining. The bluish-black bruises on her skin paled into purple, no green- no, wait- a jaundiced yellow, and then...

She was elated.

Eating the heart healed all of her injuries, but was it a one time deal or was it permanent regenerative abilities? And what's the curse? She was sure she'd find out when she least expects it, yet the cautionary fear of a negative side effect wasn't enough to dampen her mood.

The storm grew stronger and the air around her felt heavier, colder. Thunder rolled and boomed. The sound waves nearly knocked her down, but she was laughing in a raspy bark; high, happy, and oblivious to the danger forming above.

She felt it before it happened. Soaked hair began to stand on end followed by a zinging sizzle and a burst of light. Lightning had struck nearby. Eight separate arcs split off the main bolt, white spider legs zigzagging outwards, arcing to connect with her shoulder. A current of white hot electricity raced down her spine and crawled down her legs; snapping, spreading, and dissipating into the ground all around her. Her heart and lungs seized. She couldn't move. Limbs failed to comply until the crackling static cleared. Smoke and steam rose from her body as she sagged down to her knees, as she lazily rubbed the space closest to her heart and panted for breath.

She knelt on the ground for a while, anchoring herself to the grass while the world spun around her. She forced herself to evaluate her physical condition. She felt light headed and strange, and unsurprisingly, a little more_ other_.

An animalistic huff drew her attention and she looked up from the grass to find a set of blazing blue eyes hidden in brush twenty feet away, staring at her. The scent wasn't familiar and was distinctly male; sandalwood and mint, laced with huge amounts of testosterone. Scenting frantically, she realized she wasn't in Long Tooth territory anymore.

A large, powder white wolf stepped out of the bushes, shimmering into smooth pale skin and rippling muscles on a tall frame. The stranger was a short haired blonde with a tight neat beard, eyes the color of the ocean, and astounding symmetrical facial features. He was alone, so she guessed he was the Packmaster or Beta, but from the sheer size of his wolf, it was clear he had an undiluted line of Alpha blood in his veins.

Jan got up from her knees; shaking and stumbling like a newborn fawn, but otherwise held her ground. The male stepped closer, slowly and cautiously.

Their eyes locked, but there was no challenge in his gaze, only disbelief and confusion. His nostrils flared several times at smelling the odor of seared flesh, but there were no burns on her body. None. His eyes bypassed her scars and roamed down to the ground around her, watching the ashes of the creature quickly seeping into the ground with the rain. Liquid blue eyes cut ten feet over to Jan's right, spying the patch of scorched and wilted grass; proof that he hadn't imagined the light show.

He still couldn't believe it. He saw it all; witnessed everything from the glorious kill, the healing of her skin, to the strike of lightning. He thought the she-wolf was a goner after being struck, but now, the scarred female is staring at him like he should mind his own business... in his own territory. He almost smiled at her fearlessness, but noticed her hand hadn't stopped stroking her chest. He listened. Her heart was beating too fast, at around 140 beats per minute.

"I'm Adam. Do you need help?" His voice was rough and deep with a strange alluring quality.

"No. I'll be leaving now." Her knees buckled, as several black pinpoints expanded in her vision. Pain flickered over her features as her heart thudded to a stop.

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><p><strong>I know it's been <em>forever<em>. Thanks for reading.**


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